If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
John UpdikeRead
Life is a video game. No matter how good you get, you are always zapped in the end.
Interpretation
Life is similar to a video game where despite our achievements, mortality is inevitable.
In this quote, John Updike expresses the idea that life, akin to a video game, is filled with challenges and opportunities for skill development. However, regardless of how accomplished one becomes, the finality of life—represented by being 'zapped'—reminds us of our mortality and the transient nature of existence.
In practice
During a motivational speech about embracing challenges in life.
If you have the guts to be yourself, other people'll pay your price.
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of. _x000D_ _x000D_ Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.
Museums and bookstores should feel, I think, like vacant lots - places where the demands on us are our own demands, where the spirit can find exercise in unsupervised play.
But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.
The reader knows the writer better than he knows himself; but the writer's physical presence is light from a star that has moved on.
To guarantee the individual maximum freedom within a social frame of minimal laws ensures - if not happiness - its hopeful pursuit.
War is not merely a political act but a real political instrument, a continuation of political intercourse, a carrying out of the same by other means.
To swear, except when necessary, is becoming to an honorable man.
Oh, God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"_x000D_ Abe said, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"_x000D_ God said, "No" Abe say, "What?"_x000D_ God say, "You can do what you want, Abe, but_x000D_ The next time you see me comin', you better run"_x000D_ Well, Abe said, "Where d'you want this killin' done?"_x000D_ God said, "Out on Highway 61".
Is this a dagger which I see before me, _x000D_ _x000D_ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. _x000D_ _x000D_ I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. _x000D_ _x000D_ Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible _x000D_ _x000D_ To feeling as to sight? or art thou but _x000D_ _x000D_ A dagger of the mind, a false creation, _x000D_ _x000D_ Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
The lowest and vilest alleys of London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.
People who are lying are, understandably, more worried about being believed, so they work harder - too hard, as it were - at being believable.
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