Don't you enjoy being alive? Don't you like feeling: This is me, this is my hand, this is my leg, I'm real, I'm solid, I'm alive! Don't you like this?

Starting the day - Another chance to be new again.How many of us still wish for that?To be your own sunrise.To awaken like a prayer - both solemn and joyful at still being alive.

I didn't do anything but sit quietly and pay attention to the fact that my hollow chest was still beating. I was still alive and could see that the new normal wasn't so bad.

We haven't remained idle, twiddling our thumbs while you were off having a good time. Through books Cathy and I have lived a zillion lives . . . our vicarious way to feel alive.

...I will shed no more tears, like a spoilt child. For whatever happens we have had what we have had. No one can take that from us. And I have been alive, who was never alive before.

When hope does awaken, an entire life awakens along with it. One comes fully to life. It begins to seem indeed that one has never lived before…Wherever hope rises, life rises.

We watch the sky, we watch it alive and we watch it die, looking for signs. We live like wind, with hope in wings that we will get there, never sooner or never later, but at a right time.

He hurt everywhere, so at least he must be alive. Another comforting thought because, despite everything, he wanted to be alive. It was the business of living he wanted nothing to do with.

Passion in life…is life. It’s contagious. Get naked and roll around in it. People who enjoy living have it all figured out. They are passionate, driven, alive, and they are real.

Why would anyone want to feel pain or fear?” Josh wondered aloud, both intrigued and repelled by the very idea. It seemed somehow wrong.“So they can feel alive,” Scatty said.

Starting the day—Another chance to be new again. How many of us still wish for that? To be your own sunrise. To awaken like a prayer—both solemn and joyful at still being alive . . .

All that really matters isto feel alive, if only for a single moment –to feel in Intense Sensationthat our existence is not an endless repetitionof sleeping, eating, drinking, and dressing.

I can see why some people become “beach bunnies”: you don’t have to think about things or even talk when you’re on the beach. You just sit here and feel good about being alive.

Dreams are like living things; they can grow, they can suffer disabilities, they can have deficiency diseases and they can also die off when they meet unfavourable and favourable conditions respectively.

I laugh, and it's laughter, not light, that casts out the darkness building within me, that reminds me I am still alive, even in this strange place where everything I've ever known is coming apart.