No vital knowledge perished in that skull; His jokes were stale; like wartime, he was dull; His name is lost for ever like his looks
A Strange Boy by Joni Mitchell · Hejira
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Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia
They themselves have lent it life; light and life to the dead block of ice, and to the silent time that follows midnight
