You cannot stare straight into the face of the sun, or death.
– La Rochefoucauld, Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims
Death is as a primeval fire that burns up the contingent elements of a person, leaving essence. So that, whenever one psychically nears these flames, life is experienced anew, in the first freshness of childhood. These are really life-giving flames. By some inverse means, the closer one comes to the verge of the great Maw, the more the garden is set abloom with organism, raging ever more fiercely with thicket and flower.