Quotes About Philosophy

Life is our impatient desires. Reality is what has to give way. That's my theory. The rest is women's nonsense.

Tutto ciò che di grande e bello c'è al mondo, gratta gratta, non è mai nato da un discorso razionale. Mai.

I longed to devote my life to something valuable with a fervor that would consume my being. Young people today probably think the same way. But in our time we were not left to ourselves as they are. All of us believed in some kind of god. We believed in a scholar or in scholarship itself; we believed that right actually exists. All that kind of thing has been swept away, and philosophy, religion and morality must be created anew, from the ground up.

I agree about Shaw -- he is haunted by the mystery he flouts. He is an atheist who trembles in the haunted corridor.

Englishmen are babes in philosophy and so prefer faction-fighting to the labour of its unfamiliar thought.

Kabbalah profoundly influenced the greatest thinkers of history, including Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, Pythagoras, Plato, Newton, Leibniz, Shakespeare, and Jung.

Happiness without freedom, or freedom without happiness. There was no third alternative.

Do you believe that you will die? Yes, man is mortal, I am a man, ergo... No, that isn't what I mean. I know that you know that. What I'm asking is: Have you ever actually believed it, believe it completely, believe not with your mind but with your body, actually felt that one day the fingers now holding this very piece of paper will be yellow and icy...?

Listen." I tugged at my neighbor. "Just listen to me! You must-you must give me an answer: out there, where your finite universe ends! What is out there, beyond it?

My dear, you are a mathematician. You're even more, you're a philosopher of mathematics. So do this for me: Tell me the final number.

But a thought swarmed in me; what if he, this yellow-eyed being – in his ridiculous, dirty bundle of trees, in his uncalculated life – is happier than us?

How do you know nonsense isn't a good thing? if human nonsense had been nurtured and developed for centuries, just as intelligence has, then perhaps something extraordinarily previous could have come from it.

The most effective way of destroying art is the canonization of one given form. And one philosophy.

What we need in literature today are vast philosophic horizons; we need the most ultimate, the most fearsome, the most fearless 'Why?' and 'What next?' ("Literature, Revolution, and Entropy")

I feel myself. But it's only the eye with a lash in it, the swollen finger, the infected tooth that feels itself, is conscious of its own individual being. The healthy eye or finger or tooth doesn't seem to exist. So it's clear, isn't it? Self-consciousness is just a disease.

Children are the boldest philosophers. They enter life naked, not covered by the smallest fig leaf of dogma, absolutes, creeds. This is why every question they ask is so absurdly naïve and so frighteningly complex.

Bir nokta, her ÅŸeyden daha fazla bilinmeyen içerir. Tüm yapmas? gereken k?p?rdamas?, az?c?k yerinden oynamas?d?r; binlerce deÄŸiÅŸik eÄŸriye, yüzlerce kat? biçime dönüÅŸebilir. K?p?rdamak istemiyorum... Korkuyorum. Neye dönüÅŸeceÄŸim?

Children are the only bold philosophers. And bold philosophers have to be children. Precisely like children, and there should always be: but what next?

There were two in paradise and the choice was offered to them: happiness without freedom, or freedom without happiness.

All their Immanuel Kants together couldn't do it! It didn't enter the heads of all their Kants to build a system of scientific ethics, that is, ethics based on adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing.

To feel one's self, to be conscious of one's personality, is the lot of an eye inflamed by a cinder, or an infected finger, or a bad tooth. A healthy eye, or finger, or tooth is not felt; it is nonexistent, as it were. Is it not clear, then, that consciousness of oneself is a sickness? Apparently

Ora o conhecimento de si, o reconhecimento da própria individualidade só o têm o olho onde acaba de cair um cisco, o dedo esfolado, o dente dolorido. Quando sãos, o olho, o dedo, o dente não têm existência alguma. Não prova isto claramente que a consciência de si é de facto uma doença?

Dicen que hay flores que sólo despuntan una vez cada cien años. ¿Y por qué no hay otras que florezcan cada mil o cada diez mil años? Tal vez hasta ahora no lo hayamos sabido por la sencilla razón de que esa vez-cada-mil-años toca precisamente hoy.

To kill one individual, that is, to subtract fifty years to the total sum of human lives, was criminal. But to subtract fifty million years was not considered criminal. Really, isn't that absurd?