Quotes About Life

Where there are humans you'll find flies, and Buddhas.

On the Death of his Child Dew Evaporates And all our world is dew...so dear, So fresh, so fleeting

A world of grief and pain, but the flowers bloom even then

Don't kill!... The fly is asking you To save his life By rubbing his hands together

Man is a moving being. If he does not move to what is good, he will surely move to that what is not. If this consciousness does not arise here, another consciousness will arise there. Man's mind goes through multifarious changes and never stops.

Swordsmanship is the art used at the border between life and death. It is easy to throw away your life and proceed toward death, but it is difficult not to make life and death two... Entrust life to life, and entrust death to death; but do not make this mind two... With this, you will gain complete freedom.

One's life, from the beginning, is lonely and desolate; After death, you are inactive of your own. Look quietly at the world of men- Whether they flourish or fade, it's all one grave

Design is not for philosophy it's for life.

Count your nights by stars, not shadows; count your life with smiles, not tears.

Rice is born in water and must die in wine.

Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.

The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life, the inevitability of death.

Who are we, who is each one of us, if not a combination of experiences, information, books we have read, things imagined? Each life is an encyclopedia, a library, an inventory of objects, a series of styles, and everything can be constantly shuffled and reordered in every way conceivable.

The city, however, does not tell its past, but contains it like the lines of a hand

A person's life consists of a collection of events, the last of which could also change the meaning of the whole, not because it counts more than the previous ones but because once they are included in a life, events are arranged in an order that is not chronological but, rather, corresponds to an inner architecture.

The lives of individuals of the human race form a constant plot, in which every attempt to isolate one piece of living that has a meaning separate from the rest-for example, the meeting of two people, which will become decisive for both-must bear in mind that each of the two brings with himself a texture of events, environments, other people, and that from the meeting, in turn, other stories will be derived which will break off from their common story.

Do you believe that every story must have a beginning and an end? In ancient times a story could end only in two ways: having passed all the tests, the hero and the heroine married, or else they died. The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life, the inevitability of death.

In politics, as in every other sphere of life, there are two important principles for a man of any sense: don't cherish too many illusions, and never stop believing that every little bit helps.

Life, thought the naked man, was a hell, with rare moments recalling some ancient paradise.

You fight with dreams as with formless and meaningless life, seeking a pattern, a route that must surely be there, as when you begin to read a book and you don't yet know in which direction it will carry you. What you would like is the opening of an abstract and absolute space and time in which you could move, following an exact, taut trajectory; but when you seem to be succeeding, you realize you are motionless, blocked, forced to repeat everything from the beginning.

The sea where living creatures were at one time immersed is now enclosed within their bodies.

Do you believe that every story must have a beginning and an end? In ancient times a story could end only in tow ways: having passed all the tests, the hero and the heroine married, or else they died. The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life, the inevitability of death.

The art of writing tales consists in an ability to draw the rest of life from the little one has understood of it; but life begins again at the end of the page, and one realises that one has knew nothing whatsoever.

and every Wednesday the perfumed young lady slips me a hundred-crown note to leave her alone with the convict. And by Thursday the hundred crowns are already gone in so much beer. And when the visiting hour is over, the young lady comes out with the stink of jail in her elegant clothes; and the prisoner goes back to his cell with the lady's perfume in his jailbird's suit. And I'm left with the smell of beer. Life is nothing but trading smells.