If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
John UpdikeRead
Life is a video game. No matter how good you get, you are always zapped in the end.
Interpretation
Life is similar to a video game where despite our achievements, mortality is inevitable.
In this quote, John Updike expresses the idea that life, akin to a video game, is filled with challenges and opportunities for skill development. However, regardless of how accomplished one becomes, the finality of life—represented by being 'zapped'—reminds us of our mortality and the transient nature of existence.
In practice
During a motivational speech about embracing challenges in life.
If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of. _x000D_ _x000D_ Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.
Museums and bookstores should feel, I think, like vacant lots - places where the demands on us are our own demands, where the spirit can find exercise in unsupervised play.
But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.
The reader knows the writer better than he knows himself; but the writer's physical presence is light from a star that has moved on.
To guarantee the individual maximum freedom within a social frame of minimal laws ensures - if not happiness - its hopeful pursuit.
A human soul devoid of longing was a soul deformed, deprived of its highest good, sick unto death.
Everything that has form, everything that is the result of combination, is evolved out of this Akasha.
The absence of the will to live is, alas, not sufficient to make one want to die.
Freedom is an indivisible word. If we want to enjoy it, and fight for it, we must be prepared to extend it to everyone, whether they are rich or poor, whether they agree with us or not, no matter what their race or the color of their skin.
Great God! What have I turned into? What right have you people to clutter up my life, steal my time, probe my soul, suckle my thoughts, have me for your companion, confidant, and information bureau? What do you take me for? Am I an entertainer on salary, required every evening to play an intellectual farce under your stupid noses? Am I a slave, bought and paid for, to crawl on my belly in front of you idlers and lay at your feet all that I do and all that I know?
The eye of the heart, though closed in fallen man, is able to take in a glimmering of light and this is faith. But anyway of living causes a covering like rust to accumulate over the heart so that it cannot sense the Divine origin of Allah's message.
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