Where do you want to go when you die???
(1) Live forever on a paradise earth with only JDUBS!
(2) Go to heaven and fly around like a bird!
(3) Be instantly transformed into another life form!
(fish-frog-cat-dog-snake-snail-fred hall)
(4) Go to a red hot hell and meet the Devil!
(5) Go to a cold dark hell and meet your own devil!
(6) Be turned into a tree,flower,bush,astro turf!
WHAT WILL IT BE FOR YOU LET ME KNOW!
(SOME QUOTES ON DEATH)
Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have.
The fear of death often proves mortal, and sets people on methods to save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them.
I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.
Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile.
Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.
W. C. Fields, a lifetime agnostic, was discovered reading a Bible on his deathbed. ''I'm looking for a loop-hole,'' he explained.
Birth and death are so closely related that one could not destroy either without destroying the other at the same time. It is extinction that makes creation possible.
Wondrous hole! Magical hole! Dazzlingly influential hole! Noble and effulgent hole! From this hole everything follows logically: first the baby, then the placenta, then, for years and years and years until death, a way of life. It is all logic, and she who lives by the hole will live also by its logic. It is, appropriately, logic with a hole in it.
A funeral is not death, any more than baptism is birth or marriage union. All three are the clumsy devices, coming now too late, now too early, by which Society would register the quick motions of man.
What you possess in the world will be found at the day of your death to belong to someone else. But what you are will be yours forever.
Faith makes a Christian. Life proves a Christian. Trial confirms a Christian. Death crowns a Christian.
Until the day of his death, no man can be sure of his courage.
Death not merely ends life, it also bestows upon it a silent completeness, snatched from the hazardous flux to which all things human are subject.
I do not believe that any man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death.
Let no man fear to die, we love to sleep all, and death is but the sounder sleep.
A man's death makes everything certain about him. Of course, secrets may die with him. And of course, a hundred years later somebody looking through some papers may discover a fact which throws a totally different light on his life and of which all the people who attended his funeral were ignorant. Death changes the facts qualitatively but not quantitatively. One does not know more facts about a man because he is dead. But what one already knows hardens and becomes definite. We cannot hope for ambiguities to be clarified, we cannot hope for further change, we cannot hope for more. We are now the protagonists and we have to make up our minds.