Sometimes life is so unsatisfying
that we think we should like to be rid of it.
But we really are not longing for death; we are longing
for more life.
Whatever crazy sorrow saith,
No life that breathes with human breath
Has ever truly longed for death.
’Tis life, whereof our
nerves are scant,
Oh life, not death, for which we pant;
More life, and fuller, that I want.