It is not a life at all. It is a reticence, in three volumes.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
What indeed is life, unless so far as it is enjoyed? It does not merit the name.
Life, in my estimation, is a biological misadventure that we terminate on the shoulders of six strange men whose only objective is to make a hole in one with you.
Life, it seems, is nothing if not a series of initiations, transitions, and incorporations.
Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.
Life is anything that dies when you stomp on it.
Life itself is a quotation.
Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.
Life is just a short period of time in which you are alive.
When we speak the word 'life,' it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach.
Life is strong and fragile. It's a paradox... It's both things, like quantum physics: It's a particle and a wave at the same time. It all exists all together.