corpses [Theme] Page 2

The dead do not pass away from the lives of those who loved them, the dead just do not grow old, remaining in the heart of the living as they left.

Close the lid of the coffin over the dead is the same as slamming the door between the worlds of the dead and the living.

If there is a God up there, He probably bursts out laughing at people who were able to create atomic bombs and artificial intelligence, but are still worried about their own death and do not know what to do with the dead. How wretched it is to endure death on the periphery of life when it is at the center of everything!

“I didn't order them, Aunt Prudence.

- You know that yes. And if we are unlucky, we will end up in the history textbook, but then it will not be us, but someone's invention about us, someone else's interpretation. Who are we - is it possible to tell about it completely and completely? All this is only in our heads. And in the memory of those who loved us.

- Yes? Then why am I hearing them?

The dead appear to us in a dream, because our perception does not allow us to see them in reality. These night guests are images projected into our consciousness from an incredible distance, in a certain sense they can be likened to the light of a long extinct star ...

- He was a good man and COP.
- You didn't know him, how can we say that?
Well... the dead usually say so.

Not a soul appears for no reason. Dark hold in our world, sins and death, light the conscience or the desire to fix something and help someone.

- It is given?
He's dead Dan, so good Dan.

One day, gather strength, I was able to climb. I wanted to look in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall. I have not seen myself since the ghetto. In the mirror I looked dead. Since then, his gaze does not leave me.

- So why seek death?
- Seek to die? You misunderstand - we are already living dead, Rock. Dutch, Balalaika, Chang, and others. Each of those who walk in the land of Roanapur. Although we differ from the actual dead.
- Differ?
- Yes, they are. Alive, dead - not the case. If you cling to life, the fear has blinded your eyes. If you have no fear of death, unable to fight, at least until the Second Coming.

If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy lover deceasd,
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.




Oh, if you're gonna outlive me,
When it will decay the body is,
And somehow accidentally perechtesh
Clumsy verse fan-poet -
Compare it with the verse of the later century
And, even though he was many to be outdone,
It is not honoring rhyme, - the human heart,
Who were you in bondage
Comfort me, lovingly thinking:
"If the poems of the dead man could
Go for a century, friendship, singing,
They would be the best style surpassed.
But once he died, I respect the art
The poets of the century, it is - a feeling."

The dead do not bite!