An English writer telephoned me from London, asking questions. One was, ‘What’s your alma mater?’ I told him, ‘Books.’
Stars fade like memory the instant before dawn. Low in the east, the sun appears golden as an opening eye. That which can be named must exist. That which is named can be written. That which is written shall be remembered. That which is remembered lives. In the land of Egypt Osiris breathes. The sun rises and mists disperse. As I am, I was, and I shall be a thing of matter and heaven.”
The Book of the Coming Forth by Day (also known incorrectly as The Egyptian Book of the Dead)
It is not the length of life, but the depth.