William Hazlitt Quotes

Love is the thing that you pursue because it's the thing that gives you all this life, or you believe that, anyway.

Man," he said, "I'm not afraid of graveyards. The dead are just, you know, people who wanted the same things you and I want." "What do we want?" I asked blurrily. "Aw, man, you know," he said. "We just want, well, the same things these people wanted." "What was that?" He shrugged. "To live, I guess," he said.

The great question of life is not the question of death but the question of life. Fear of death shames us all.

I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life.

Every tiny part of us cries out against the idea of dying, and hopes to live forever.

What you want, what you're hanging around in the world waiting for, is for something to occur to you.

I have not the hope of being immortal, because the desire of it has not given me that vanity.

Perhaps we clutch at life only when we have never lived or trusted it. Then death seems the last and greatest defeat, the end of something never felt.

Death is a false fear. When it is here, you won't be. When it's not, you are here.

I can imagine myself on my death-bed, spent utterly with lust to touch the next world, like a boy asking for his first kiss from a woman.

When desire dies, fear is born.

Life is a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment.

I am absolutely intrigued by life, and I really want to hold onto it.

I want to live.

Why are we born? We're born eventually to die, of course. But what happens between the time we're born and we die? We're born to live. One is a realist if one hopes.

There is no means of proving it is preferable to be than not to be.

You want to live-but do you know how to live? You are scared of dying-and, tell me, is the kind of life you lead really any different from being dead?

Life is merely a fraction of a second. An infinitely small amount of time to fulfill our desires, our dreams, our passions.

It's the same thing,' I told her. 'What is?' 'Being afraid and being alive.' 'No,' she said slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.

Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant; Life we have loved, through green leaf and through sere, Though still the less we knew of its intent.

Live so that thou mayest desire to live again - that is thy duty - for in any case thou wilt live again!

Is death that which gives meaning to life?

it seems a silly kind o' business to bring us into the world at all for no special reason 'cept to take us out of it again just as folks 'ave learned to know us a bit and find us useful.

The goal is the same: life itself; and the price is the same; life itself.