Quotes About Existence

To suffer is the supreme modality of taking the world seriously.

Existence might well have had some attraction before the advent of noise — let us say, before the neolithic age. When will he come, the man who can rid us of all men?

La desproporción entre la infinitud del mundo y la finitud del hombre es un serio motivo de desesperación;

Everything is unique—and insignificant.

Senza?ii de avorton—?i senza?ia unui dumnezeu—, altele n-am cunoscut. Punct ?i infinit, dimensiunile mele, modurile mele de existen??.

I am both wound and knife"—that is our absolute, our eternity.

El aburrimiento es el eco en nosotros del tiempo que se desgarra…, la revelación del vacío, el cese de ese delirio que sostiene —o inventa— la vida…

Zi dup? zi, m? târ?sc pe o bucat? de spaÈ›iu, la marginea Universului, în mijlocul unei infinit??i de cuvinte nepronunÈ›ate.

Amid anxiety and distress, sudden calm at the thought of the foetus one has been.

În afara clipei totul este minciun?.

Trebuie s? privim spre viitor, chiar dac? viitorul e moartea.

Ona duyduÄŸum ilgiye kar?? koymaya çal???yorum, gözlerinin, yanaklar?n?n, burnunun, dudaklar?n?n tamamen çürüyüp kokmuÅŸ halini gözümün önüne getiriyorum. Hiçbir ÅŸey deÄŸiÅŸmiyor: uyand?rd??? tan?mlanamaz ÅŸey olduÄŸu gibi duruyor. Bu tür anlarda anl?yor insan Bilmeye raÄŸmen hayat?n nas?l devam edebildiÄŸini.

Do I look like someone who has something to do here on earth?" —That's what I'd like to answer the busybodies who inquire into my activities.

Over the gate of our cemeteries should be written: "Nothing Is Tragic. Everything Is Unreal.

Panic in the face of anything—of presence, of the void, of anything. Original panic.

If with each word we win a victory over nothingness, it is only the better to endure its reign. We die in proportion to the words which we fling around us . . . Those who speak have no secrets. And we all speak. We betray ourselves, we exhibit our heart; executioner of the unspeakable, each of us labors to destroy all the mysteries, beginning with our own.

There are a thousand perceptions of Nothing, and only one word to translate them: the indigence of language renders the universe intelligible . . .

Whatever they do and wherever they go, their mission is to keep watch; this is the command of their immemorial status as aliens. A solution to their fate does not exist.

Ennui is the martyrdom of those who live and die for no belief.

This situation will last until the end of time. And it is to this situation that they owe the mishap of not perishing . . .

Estar en el tiempo, con menos provecho que Dios antes de la creación —imaginar y alcanzar el límite absoluto de la inutilidad.

What shall we tell the blind woman in Rilke's poem who lamented that 'I can no longer live with the sky upon me'? Would it comfort her if we told her we can no longer live with the earth underneath our feet?

Maddenin d???nda, her ÅŸey müziktir. Tanr? bile sesli bir halüsinasyondan baÅŸka ÅŸey deÄŸildir.

Si la Historia tuviera una finalidad, que lamentable sería el destino de quienes no hemos hecho nada en la vida. Pero en medio del absurdo general, nos alzamos triunfadores, piltrafas ineficaces, canallas orgullosos de haber tenido razón.