What was life? It was warmth, the warmth generated by a form-preserving instability, a fever of matter, which… — Thomas Mann
What was life? It was warmth, the warmth generated by a form-preserving instability, a fever of matter, which accompanied the process of ceaseless decay and repair of protein molecules that were too impossibly ingenious in structure.
Source: Wikiquote · CC BY-SA 4.0
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Asia surrounds us — wherever one's glance rests, a Tartar physiognomy.
Rough translation of this passage written in French: The body, love, death, these three are just one. For the body, this is the disease and exquisite delight, and this that does die, yes, they are carnal both of them, love and death, and thus their terror and their great magic!
Translation: What we call mourning for our dead is perhaps not so much grief at not being able to call them back as it is grief at not being able to want to do so.
