There is so much freedom to be gained in these few years of existence we all call life. But some of us enslave ourselves to an imaginary master in the sky in the hopes of living forever.
I often wonder why are they not haunted by the vastness of eternal life they believe in. Do they really hope that their quadrillionth birthday would be less boring than their trillionth birthday? Don’t they know that life is beautiful because we are all mortal?
Why is it that, the people who preach about eternal life in heaven are remarkably the same people you wouldn’t want to spend an eternity with? I mean, they are so hypocritical, always denying everything that makes them human and yet committing the same things they deny, in secret. Always pretending to be holier than thou. No one would want to spend an eternity with some one like that.
I pity the gods, if they exist. I pity them because , there is nothing for them to do. They know everything, and they can do everything. Yet they must live forever. Spending zillions of birthdays forever and ever, bored for eternity.
But we are so lucky. We will all cease to be.
Life was not a valuable gift, but death was. Life was a fever-dream made up of joys embittered by sorrows, pleasure poisoned by pain; a dream that was a nightmare-confusion of spasmodic and fleeting delights, ecstasies, exultations, happinesses, interspersed with long-drawn miseries, griefs, perils, horrors, disappointments, defeats,humiliations, and despairs–the heaviest curse devisable by divine ingenuity; but death was sweet, death was gentle, death was kind; death healed the bruised spirit and the broken heart, and gave them rest and forgetfulness; death was man’s best friend; when man could endure life no longer, death came and set him free. — Mark Twain