Quotes About Philosophy

There may or may not be a God, but if there is one, I wouldn't want to have him over for dinner.

PÃ…â"¢edstava, že bychom se mÄ›li odebrat na v??nost kv?li nÄ›jaké chybÄ› na tÃ…â"¢icátém desetinném místÄ›, které se dopustil neznámý programátor, se mi v?bec nelíbila.

How's life?" "That's the stupidest question I've ever heard.

I was just going to stand here and watch it happen. I wasn't going to say a fucking thing. Why? Because what did it matter? What did any of it matter?

Look in the mirror and decide once and for all: Am I biological or mechanical? Is my deepest essence a machine or not?

Azt, amikor a szellem széttöri a bilincseit, menekülést keres, és szabadságra vágyik. Ez tehát a boldogság, egyben azonban elszakadás a földi dolgoktól, s a legnagyobb bölcsesség is. Az igazi boldogság az éntÅ'l való megszabadulás, a szeretÅ'k boldogsága, akiket Platón mindenki közül a legboldogabbnak nevez.

The universal dress of philosophy and philanthropy can conceal repression, violations of the true personal, human, local, civil, and national freedom

il filosofo è tanto più bestia quanto più vuol esser dio

Temporis filia veritas; cui me obstetricari non pudet . Truth is the daughter of time, and I feel no shame in being her midwife.

before the origin of things, geometry was coeternal with the Divine Mind

I used to measure the skies, now I measure the shadows of Earth. Sky-bound was the mind, earthbound the body rests.

I measured the skies, now the shadows I measure. Sky-bound was the mind, Earth-bound the body rests.

One looks at death, always moves toward it, but until the last denies its existence.

We hear very often declarations on the demoralizing tendency of war, but as much as I hate war, I cannot be of the opinion that frequent wars are so corrupting to human nature as long peaces.

What did I brood on, sitting there in the classic pose with my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands? We do not need to go to the Greeks, our tragic predicament is written out on rolls of lavatory paper.

In my world, there are no simple questions, and precious few answers of any kind. If you are going to write about me, you must resign yourself to that.

In this new life I am condemned to, is there nothing that is not open to doubt?

Sometimes I think our presence here is due to a cosmic blunder, that we were meant for another planet altogether, with other arrangements, and other laws, and other, grimmer skies. I try to imagine it, our true place, off on the far side of the galaxy, whirling and whirling. And the ones who were meant for here, are they out there, baffled and homesick, like us? No, they would have become extinct long ago. How could they survive, these gentle earthlings, in a world that was made to contain us.

The Stoics denied the concept of progress. There might be a little advance here, some improvement there—cosmology in their time, dentistry in ours—but in the long run the balance of things, such as good and evil, beauty and ugliness, joy and misery, remains constant.

But why at least? What a business it is, the human discourse. I

What are living beings, compared to the enduring intensity of mere things?

Destruam et aedificabo, as Proudhon was wont to cry.

Unhappily, things get clearer as we go along. I perceive that I have no body. What's less, I've been speaking of myself without delight or alternative as self-consciousness pure and sour; I declare now that even that isn't true. I'm not aware of myself at all, as far as I know. I don't think. . . I know what I'm talking about.

That clever folk care less for what ye think than why ye think it.