A Book about Dead Philosophers

 

I bought a book about tons of death episodes of very distinctive philosophers. At the first glance, it reminded me the old day when I was seriously thinking about a meaning of death in a metaphysical sense. And I was a true investigator in that sense for a while, although I was not fully relieved from impossibility of unidentifying an essence of that subject.
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I was persuaded by reading the sentence that the purpose of this book is intended to explore a meaning of life from understanding death in the absence of leading to somewhere after death. It almost paralled to the question that I used to be interested in.
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Which leaded me to the vague image that I had recalled in old days the moment of truth pertaining to the every possible things of death. And I was talking to myself that the first cut is the deepest. Right after that, those days had been gone before I knew.
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Life seemed to be too short and vulnerable to hold on what I had believed in. And life did not have to be one way or the other. As long as I was there to hang on, I found a way to move on both in terms of physical and mental sense. It was basically not done yet unless I intended to do so.
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That was when I found the meaning of process that happens to be emphasized in this book.