On this night in 1987 (some day early morning December 1), James Baldwin died from esophageal cancer in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France, aged 63. He was buried (with his mother Berdis Baldwin) at the Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale, near New York City.
“Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death—ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life.”
― from “The Fire Next Time”
The most essential and fundamental aspect of culture is the study of literature, since this is an education in how to picture and understand human situations.
—Iris Murdoch (via quotesandnonsense)