On Immortality Audiolibro Por Wilfred Thomason Grenfell arte de portada

On Immortality

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On Immortality

De: Wilfred Thomason Grenfell
Narrado por: Virtual Voice
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 FROM earliest childhood I have been endowed with the keenest love for life. Looking back on my boyhood days, I can remember nothing but one long delight in the healthy body which my parents transmitted to me, in the simple and free open-air life I was encouraged to live, and in the responsibility for looking after myself without apron-string rule. I am not responsible for this love for life. I love it just because it is natural to do so. Higher powers, whether mortal or immortal, are accountable, in my case, for a deep in-rooted joy in being alive — a joy which has grown with the passing years. I am familiar with death. A man cannot be a surgeon without recognizing that there comes a time to every human body, sometimes after only a few years of tenancy, when it becomes impossible as a desirable habitation any longer; when, were it my own, I should ask nothing better than to be permitted to get out of it. I can honestly say that it never occurred to me until some one put it into my head that I could never leave it, because I was it. The dissectingroom was never for a moment more to me than a deserted village, where we students were pulling down the walls of abandoned houses to enable us better, later on, to keep occupied ones in repair. It was exactly the same in the wards of the hospital. I used to get very fond of my patients. But I have often been far more sorry for my friends who had to return to their hard environment crippled, handicapped, or continually bound to suffer than for those who left their damaged bodies behind them when they went out of hospital. More than once I would have hastened what is called "death," out of pure charity, had I dared. A splendid old oversea sailor, who appealed to my temperament especially for that reason, was under my care with cancer of the throat. Each night, as I went round the wards before retiring, I used to tiptoe past his carefully curtained bed hoping that he would not hear me. For, as surely as he caught the sound of my footstep, he would call out, "Make the dose larger tonight, Doctor. All I want is not to wake up any more." It was morphine in a lethal draught he was clamoring for. He had no craven fear of death, though he had no doctrinal education in immortality. He just believed that God was his Father, and it never entered his mind to doubt that there was something in store for him beyond. He was content to leave it at that. To tell the rock-bottom truth, in spite of my particular calling, my "views" on immortality have always been closely allied to that. I have had as little time for, as I have had bias towards, theology. As with my love for life here, so it is with my faith in immortal life here and hereafter.
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