How Do I Listen to others? As if everyone were my Master Speaking to me His Cherished Last Words.
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How Do I Listen to others? As if everyone were my Master Speaking to me His Cherished Last Words.
I'm practicing the discipline of not having to have the last word.
It was an indulgence, learning last words. Other people had chocolate; I had dying declarations.
I foresee a great funeral contest over me.
Show my head to the people. It is worth seeing.
Let it not be death but completeness. Let love melt into memory and pain into songs. Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest. Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night. Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.
And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.
I have no intention of uttering my last words on the stage. Room service and a couple of depraved young women will do me quite nicely for an exit.
Goodbye, my friend, goodbye. My dear, you are in my heart. Predestined separation promises a future meeting.
Censorship is saying: "I'm the one who says the last sentence. Whatever you say, the conclusion is mine." But the internet is like a tree that is growing. The people will always have the last word – even if someone has a very weak, quiet voice. Such power will collapse because of a whisper.
Man's inhumanity to man is not the last word. The truth lies deeper. It is economic slavery, the savage struggle for a crumb, that has converted mankind into wolves and sheep.
If we say that monsters [people who do terrible evil] are beyond forgiving, we give them a power they should never have...they are given the power to keep their evil alive in the hearts of those who suffered most. We give them power to condemn their victims to live forever with the hurting memory of their painful pasts. We give the monsters the last word.
My last word s that it all depends on what you visualize.
A dying man can do nothing easy.
Oh, I am not going to die, am I? He will not separate us, we have been so happy.
This is the last of earth! I am content.
Never try to have the last word. You might get it.
Tell them I've had a wonderful life.
And I too wanted to be. That is all I wanted; and this is the last word. At the bottom of all these attempts which seemed without bounds, I find the same desire again: to drive existence out of me, to rid the passing moments of their fat, to twist them, dry them, purify myself, harden myself, to give back at last the sharp, precise sound of a saxophone note. That could even make an apologue: there was a poor man who got in the wrong world.
It is very beautiful over there. (last words)
Messieurs, c'est les microbes qui auront le dernier mot." (Gentlemen, it is the microbes who will have the last word.)
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