Quotes About Existence

In the beginning, in a time that was no time, nothing existed but the Womb. And the Womb was a limitless dark cauldron of all things in potential: a chaotic blood-soup of matter and energy, fluid as water yet mud-solid with salts of the earth, red-hot as fire yet relentlessly churning and bubbling with all the winds. And the Womb was the Mother, before She took form and gave form to Existence. She was the Deep.

Pitiful, puling, like all your kin the slave of time that rots the body before the mind has seen more than a single flower in all the meadows of the Cosmos.

But that isn't all!" Caris broke in, distressed at the sadness in the old man's voice. "There is more in the world than—than money in the pockets of the merchants and machines to make things to sell! Isn't there?

the heart rules love, where we magnetically draw and hold existence;

People don't live in the greater scheme of things, they live in the here and now

The wonder is that you could start life with nothing, end with nothing, and lose so much in between.

Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.

Every life is different because you passed this way and touched history. Even the child Ruth May touched history. Everyone is complicit. The okapi complied by living, and the spider by dying. It would have lived if it could. Listen: being dead is not worse than being alive. It is different, though. You could say the view is larger.

We would not wake up from this nightmare to find out it was someone's real life, and for once that someone wasn't just a poor unlucky nobody in a shack you could forget about. It was our life, the only one we were going to have.

Sometimes a good day lasts all about 10 seconds.

Awareness is everything. Hallie once pointed out to me that people worry a lot more about the eternity *after* their deaths than the eternity that happened before they were born. But it's the same amount of infinity, rolling out in all directions from where we stand.

Listen: being dead is not worse than being alive. It is different though. You could say the view is larger.

The pounding of What do I want went still in her breast. It didn't matter what she chose. The world was what it was, a place with its own rules of hunger and satisfaction. Creatures lived and mated and died, they came and went, as surely as summer did. They would go their own ways, of their own accord.

Yet I stake a claim, I am here, for I must be somewhere. But only as a child it seems, struggling to understand what every wife and gentleman passing on the street seems to know by rote. Whom to love, whom to castigate.

I thought everything in the world was already discovered. Already in my books. A lot of dead stuff that put me to sleep. That was the day I understood the world is still living.

I understood that the terror of my recurring dream was not about losing just vision, but the whole of myself, whatever that was. What you lose in blindness is the space around you, the place where you are, and without that you might not exist. You could be nowhere at all.

I was a skeleton with flesh and clothes and thoughts.

To have been made the creatures we are is a marvel. If the process required millennia rather than seven days, how can it be any less sublime?

One has only a life of one's own.

And then while we all still waited I understood that the terror of my recurring dream was not about losing just vision, but the whole of myself, whatever that was. What you lose in blindness is the space around you, the place where you are, and without that you might not exist. You could be nowhere at all.

I was only just now starting to exist.

All human odes are essentially one. "My life: what I stole from history, and how I live with it.

What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive. You keep your eyes open, you see this damned-to-hell world you got born into, and you ask yourself, "What life can I live that will let me breathe in & out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods?

Cub retreated to the familiar grounds of remorse and insufficiency, the terms of his existence, ratified by marriage.