Tonight when I was sitting on my roof reading my paperback copy of Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge, I looked over at my neighbor’s garden. The trees were straight and leafy, the flowers were orange and contented. Yet who was looking after them? During all the time I’d spent up here not once had I seen my neighbor–not once with soiled hands or ruddy knees, not once in faded clothes or slip-on shoes. I thought,
When I am here, she is not. When I am not, she must be.
One response to “Epicurus’ argument against the fear of death”
[…] It is impossible to tell, from this side of any such change, whether this is true. This would appear to fall squarely into the category of changes that form a tipping point that is totally opaque until it is reached and passed. In this way it could be said that it is like death itself. As Epicurus said of death, “When I am here, she is not. When I am not, she must be.“ […]