You think the other person in your life is going to be there forever, but that is not true. That person is impermanent, just like you. So if you can do something to make that person happy, you should do it right away. Anything you can do or say to make him or her happy—say it or do it now. It's now or never.

Now I see that if one doesn't know how to die, one can hardly know how to live - because death is a part of life.

In this very moment all of us are dying. Some of us are dying more slowly and some of us more quickly. If we can be alive now, it is because we're dying at every moment. We might think that someone else is dying and we're not. But we shouldn't be fooled by appearances.

Looking deeply can become a way of life. We can practice conscious breathing to help us be in touch with things and look deeply at their impermanent nature. This practice will keep us from complaining that everything is impermanent. Impermanence is what makes transformation possible. Thanks to impermanence, we can change suffering into joy.

Life is short; it must not be spent in endless metaphysical speculations which will not be able to bring us the Truth.

Imagine the power of reading a psalm at age eighty that you read daily in your thirties. Rituals can tie our years together.

To spend time is to pass it in a specified manner. To waste time is to expend it thoughtlessly or carelessly. We all have time to either spend or waste and it is our decision what to do with it. But once passed, it is gone forever.

The essential quality of living life lies simply in the living.

Acceptance of death. — The round of summer and winter becomes a blessing the moment we give up the fantasy of eternal spring.

If you love life, don't waste time, for time is what life is made up of.

Best followed now is this life, by hurrying, like itself, to a close. Few things remain. He was repulsed in efforts after a pension by certain caprices of law. His scars proved his only medals. He dictated a little book, the record of his fortunes. But long ago it faded out of print--himself out of being--his name out of memory. He died the same day that the oldest oak on his native hills was blown down.

A short life to them, and a jolly death.