Quotes About Philosophy

Poiché vi sono momenti nei quali non si può pensare né sentire. E se non si può né pensare né sentire, allora e che punto si è?

But how describe the world seen without a self?

It might be possible, Septimus thought, looking at England from the train window as they left Newhaven, it might be possible that the world itself is without meaning.

For the philosopher is right who says that nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy;

Ma Peter - non importa quanto fosse bella la giornata, e gli alberi e l'erba, e la fanciulla vestita di rosa - Peter non vedeva mai nulla. Se lei glielo chiedeva, si metteva gli occhiali; guardava. Ma era lo stato del mondo che gli interessava: Wagner, la poesia di Pope, il carattere della gente, e i difetti dell'anima di lei.

Nothing should be named lest by doing so we change it. Let it exist, this bank, this beauty, and I, for one instant, steeped in pleasure.

Our minds are all threaded together… Any live mind today is of the very same stuff as Plato's & Euripides. It is only a continuation & development of the same thing. It is this common mind that binds the whole world together; & all the world is mind.

But what are stories? Toys I twist, bubbles I blow, one ring passing through another. And sometimes I begin to doubt if there are stories.

De mit jelent az, hogy ugyanÅ'? Az, amit látunk, vagy az, ami vagyunk?

Flush valóságos bölcs - írta nÅ'vérének Mrs. Browning; s talán a görögökre gondolt, akik úgy vélték, a boldogság a szenvedések útjának végén vár ránk. Ilyen az igazi filozófus: ruhája nincs ugyan, de nincs bolhája sem.

Do you exist? Have I made you up?

kardjának élét az élet felé fordítva...

Waiting for Godot] has achieved a theoretical impossibility—a play in which nothing happens, that yet keeps audiences glued to their seats. What's more, since the second act is a subtly different reprise of the first, he has written a play in which nothing happens, twice.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

And yet I adore him. I think he's quite crazy, and with no place or occupation in life, and far from happy, and philosophically irresponsible – and there is absolutely nobody like him.

A thousand years ago five minutes were Equal to forty ounces of fine sand. Outstare the stars. Infinite foretime and Infinite aftertime: above your head They close like giant wings, and you are dead.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for.

The square root of I is I.

My God died young. Theolatry i found Degrading, and its premises, unsound. No free man needs God; but was I free?

while the scientist sees everything that happens in one point of space, the poet feels everything that happens in one point of time.

I liked, as I like still, to make words look self-conscious and foolish, to bind them by mock marriage of a pun, to turn them inside out, to come upon them unawares. What is this jest in majesty? This ass in passion? How do god and devil combine to form a live dog?

Death often is the point of life's joke.

The isms go, the ist dies, art remains

If I am not master of my life, not sultan of my own being, then no man's logic and no man's ecstatic fits may force me to find less silly my impossibly silly position: that of God's slave; no, not his slave even, but just a match which is aimlessly struck and then blown out by some inquisitive child, the terror of his toys.