Life (n.) is a hill slicked with the ice of death on both sides, making it difficult to climb up and easy to slide down; but art is a handful of salt cast ahead.
Life (n.) lets you play with death before it plays with you.
Life (n.) passes over us the way cloud shadows pass over the countryside: quickly and without consideration for the landscape.
A Life (n.) is not whole until it's over.
Life (n.) is related to living in that if living is an art, life is a curated selection.
Life (n.) is the process of choosing which of the prevailing expectations you are willing to fulfill.
Life (n.) is to poetry as a random number generator is to math: it screws everything up until it accidentally makes everything right.
Life (n.) is water; death the bottom of a hill.
Life (n.) is what stands in the way of big thoughts.