It is to be doubted whether anybody who said good-bye to Bert had any faith or interest whatsoever in the life everlasting. This life had, some of them thought, been quite bad enough.
Time is more than life, it is afterlife.
Death is only the death of death not the death of life.
The Angel of Death took the woman's frail hand. "Don't be afraid." she said. "Life is your past. Death, on the other hand, is your soul preparing for a new beginning. A brand new adventure, if you lik...
...the one aim of those who practice philosophy in the proper manner is to practice for dying and death.
The only satisfactory thing about death is that our knowledge about it is unsatisfactory.
If you think about life simply as one big waiting room for eternity, who cares if it's not fully air conditioned?
One's past can't be erased, it can only be learned from, the child taught her.
Forgiveness, she was only required to accept the seed of healing, and to let it grow on its own time.
Kill him with your blessings of healing.
Conner raised an eyebrow. 'Who told you
The real help victims of injustice need is to get the will, skill and resources to fight back. There may or may not be a hell in afterlife but suffering injustice quietly is a sin, punishment for whic...
This concept of the afterlife really functions as a substitute for wisdom. It functions as a substitute for really absorbing our predicament, which is that everyone is going to die; there are circumst...
Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us.
Being a Humanist means trying to behave decently without expectation of rewards or punishment after you are dead.
If there's hell below, we're all gonna go.
I don't believe in an afterlife, so I don't have to spend my whole life fearing hell, or fearing heaven even more. For whatever the tortures of hell, I think the boredom of heaven would be even worse.
I don't like Paradise,As they probably don't have obsessions there.
In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.
His Nana's prayers were moving toward his mother like little butterflies of thoughts wrapped in the most beautiful colors. Each prayer looked like a mini-rainbow.
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