When I die, remember that what you knew of me is with you always. What is buried is only the shell of what was. Do not regret the shell, but remember the man. Remember the father.
And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?
Death cannot kill what never dies.
The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.
I am positive I have a soul; nor can all the books with which materialists have pestered the world ever convince me to the contrary.
All of us have mortal bodies, composed of perishable matter, but the soul lives forever: it is a portion of the Deity housed in our bodies
Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never; Never was time it was not; End and Beginning are dreams! Birth-less and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit forever. Death hath not touched it all, dead though the house of it seems!
Without birth or death, eternal, ever-existing, free, unchangeable and beyond all conditions is this Soul of man - the real Self of Man - the Atman.
The human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed along with the body, but something of it remains, which is eternal.
Gods should be iridescent, like the rainbow in the storm. Man creates a God in his own image, and the gods grow old along with the men that made them... But the god-stuff roars eternally, like the sea, with too vast a sound to be heard.
Immortality is what nature possesses without effort and without anybody's assistance, and immortality is what the mortals must therefore try to achieve if they want to live up to the world into which they were born, to live up to the things which surround them and to whose company they are admitted for a short while.
She seemed a thing that could not feel the touch of earthly years.
Pleasure, that immortal essence, the beauteous bead sparkling in the cup, effervesces soon and subsides.
Anything made out of destructible matter Infinite time would have devoured before. But if the atoms that make and replenish the world Have endured through the immense span of the past Their natures are immortal-that is clear. Never can things revert to nothingness!
Everybody has an angel hiding inside. When you die, your angel comes out. You can die, but not your angel. Your angel never dies.
From the humanistic point of view every human achievement is unforgettable and immortal in its essence, even if it is replaced by a "better" one.
Who can take Death's portrait? The tyrant never sat.
Souls live on in perpetual echoes.
It's only the body that's gone. Only the body. There's a part that doesn't go in the ground, a part that stays inside you forever.
