Quotes About Existence

If we desire to live, we can only do so in the margins of that place.

there's no second ive lived you can't call your own

It is understood that the world does not want to be understood. The world would not be this world if it did.

Do you believe in God? I don't think I ever asked you that one. Well I do now. But my God isn't your Catholic varietal or your Judaic or Mormon or Baptist or Seventh Day Adventist or whatever/whoever. No burning bush, no angels, no cross. God's a house. Which is not to say that our house is God's house or even a house of God. What I mean to say is that our house is God.

Do you believe in God? I don't think I ever asked you that one. Well I do now. God's a house. Which is not to say that our house is God's house or even a house of God. What I mean to say is that our house i?s? God.

Il mio oblio è Hailey. Per un istante. E per sempre. Al di là del tempo. Perché ora siamo fuori dal tempo. Siamo contemporaneamente.

Find your own words; I have no more; or plenty more but why? and all to tell—what?

All those signs I just now finished telling you about quickly vanished in the light of subsequent days or had never been there to begin with, existing only in retrospect.

and I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real.

God's a house. Which is not to say that our house is God's house or even a house of God. What I mean to say is that our house is God.

This is what it feels like to be really afraid. Though of course it doesn't. None of this can truly approach the reality of that fear, there in the midst of all that bedlam, like the sound of a heart or some other unholy blast, desperate & dying, slamming, no banging into the thin wall of my inner ear, paper thin in fact, attempting to shatter inside what had already been shattered long ago. I should be dead. Why am I still here?

La maison de Navidson peut-elle exister sans qu'on en fasse l'expérience ?

with very little to remind them of themselves or their past or even their tomorrows . . .

God for all intents and purposes is an equal sign, and at least up until now, something humanity has always been able to believe in is that universe adds up

A mockery of meaning where meaning had never been needed before.

I'm losing any sense of who he was, no name, no history, only the awful panic he felt, universal to us all.

Yes, often, I am reminded of her, and in one of my vast array of pockets, I have kept her story to retell. It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt- an immense leap of an attempt- to prove to me that you, and your human existence, are worth it. Here it is. One of a handful. The Book Thief. If you feel like it, come with me. I will tell you a story. I'll show you something.

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.

She said it out loud, the words distributed into a room that was full of cold air and books. Books everywhere! Each wall was armed with overcrowded yet immaculate shelving. It was barely possible to see paintwork. There were all different styles and sizes of lettering on the spines of the black, the red, the gray, the every-colored books. It was one of the most beautiful things Liesel Meminger had ever seen. With wonder, she smiled. That such a room existed!

Of course you're real-like any thought or any story. It's real when you're in it.

Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.

Yes, I'm often reminded of her, and in one of my array of pockets, I have kept her story to retell. It is one of the small legion I carry, each one extraordinary in its own right. Each one an attempt - an immense leap of an attempt - to prove to me that you, and your human existence, are worth it.

There are so many moments to remember and sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are.... Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.