Quotes About Philosophy

universe in which time and space had been ruled out because time and space were only put there, in the first place, to make it impossible for anyone to grasp the universe.

I sometimes think, said Jason, that the soul may be a state of mind.

Existentialists believe there is no purpose to life other than pleasure, but pleasure drifts like cigarette smoke into melancholy and ennui. A glass of absinthe and you are living the life. Drink a bottle and you're dead.

Is there any good news?' Tesla said. Who ever promised that? Who ever said there'd be good news?

I was born alive. Isn't that punishment enough?

Let the void come, and bring an end to the tyranny of hope.

What we want to believe and what is true are, I think, more closely related than the Rationalists would sometimes have us believe.

He spoke of both dancing and death with equal nonchalance, as though one carried as little significance as the other. It calmed her, hearing him talk that way.

He spent three months in a wash of depression and self-pity that bordered the suicidal. But even that solution was denied him by his new found nihilism. If nothing was worth living for it followed , didn't it , that there was nothing worth dying for either.

Dead isn't bad," Narcisse said. "It isn't even that different.

Is that the moral of it all, he thought? the moral of the whole story: that there is time enough for everything? Is that how morals come, unbidden, in the course of events, when you least expect them?

What is there in thee, Man, that can be known? Dark fluxion, all unfixable by thought, A phantom dim of past and future wrought, Vain sister of the worm ...

Infancy presents body and spirit in unity: the body is all animated.

The Outsider is he who cannot accept life as it is, who cannot consider his own existence or anyone else's necessary. He sees 'too deep and too much'.

Mind is not really 'inside' us in the same sense that our intestines are. Our individuality is a kind of eddy in the sea of mind, a reflection of the total identity of the universal humanity.

Un tom?r j?s p?r?em d?vaina tukšuma saj?ta — lai ko j?s dar?tu, nekam nav noz?mes. Tieši tas noteikti ir divdesmit? gadsimta mor?l? bankrota c?lonis.

The cultural problem was 'the fallacy of insignificance', and it was a philosophical form of this fallacy that had somehow landed existentialism in a cul de sac.

I've read Joyce and Sartre and Beckett and the rest, and every atom in me rejects what they say. They strike me as liars and fools. I don't think they're dishonest so much as hopelessly tired and defeated.

Lei, disse, era cattolico, vero? No. Anglicano? No. Sono esistenzialista. Davvero? Ma, uh… io parlavo di… religione. Lo so. Anch'io. Be', ma… non credo di aver mai sentito parlare di questa setta. È nuova? Non proprio. Chi l'ha fondata? Un danese, un certo Kierkegaard. E credono nel potere di redenzione di Gesù Cristo? Kierkegaard di sicuro ci credeva.

The Outsider's case against society is very clear. All men and women have these dangerous, unnamable impulses, yet they keep up a pretence, to themselves, to others; their respectability, their philosophy, their religion, are all attempts to gloss over, to make look civilized and rational something that is savage, unorganized, irrational. He is an Outsider because he stands for Truth.

he has explored life from end to end and found it all hollow, when actually he is only constipated with his own worthless-ness. He fails to apply his intellect to the question, Why do all living things prefer life to death?

The Outsider is he who cannot accept life as it is, who cannot consider his own existence or anyone else's necessary. He sees 'too deep and too much'. It is still a question of self-expression.

In his embryonic form, as the Outsider, he does not know himself well enough to understand the driving force behind his feelings. That is why his chief concern is with thinking, not with doing.

Avevo letto da qualche parte la parola 'nichilismo' e a scuola chiesi al mio insegnante di inglese cosa significasse. Significa non credere in niente mi rispose, e subito seppi di aver trovato un nome per il mio stato d'animo. Non era solo mancanza di qualcosa in cui credere, era non credere, di fatto, in niente.