“Living is the most beautiful part of life.” — Me
I’ve been disheartened with it, I’ve questioned the point of it, I’ve sometimes cursed it, but I was wrong to have done so. It’s taken me on some electrifying rides and sometimes I fell off, badly hurt, but not dead.
Such is the beauty and the priceless nature of life. It’s like this opus being filled everyday, one chapter at a time, such that when it’s been writ, the tome is a cocktail of genres.
Life is not a bed of roses; it’s not a bed of thorns either. It could be equated with a scintillating star that effulges so long as Fate wills it to.
Sometimes it’s more obfuscating than rocket science, sometimes it’s too plain to even think about. Maybe it gets jejune once in a while, but that’s just because we don’t pause a microsecond to ponder over the privilege of being able to live.
Merely existing is plain fatuous. You’ve got to live your life, because you’ve got only one and there’s no second chance. Life has so much of pulchritude, but your eyes must be willing to see it.
It’s a concoction with an array of tastes that include saccharine, pungent, acidulous or wersh.
Life is your personal teacher that sometimes teaches you through words, experiences, people inside it or meaningful silence.
Consider the fact that you are living today. That is because life had a lesson to teach you and there was a purpose for you waking up alive to this day.
Mae West said, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”