Quotes About Existence

The meaning of life is life itself.

My life the only thing that has been with me my whole life

Even though the CIA had acknowledged the place existed (it was on Google Earth now for frak's sake), that didn't mean they were holding an open house any time soon.

You don't decide what your purpose is in life you discover it. Your purpose is your reason for living.

The official erasure of any existence before enslavement – as if black Americans did not exist before the yolk and the chains and whip – has always created a passion for us. Black people need to find out. We have to find out Who We Are and Where We Come From.

While we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another one.

Useless to tell myself that a dream and the memory of yesterday are the same thing

Manuel Flores va a morir,/ eso es moneda corriente;/ morir es una costumbre/ que sabe tener la gente.

Me pregunto si la identidad personal consiste precisamente en la posesión de ciertos recuerdos que nunca se olvidan

Con alivio, con humillación, con terror, comprendió que él también era una apariencia, que otro estaba soñándolo.

Todos nosotros llevamos nuestra humilde vida y además llevamos otra vida, imaginaria.

Il nous suffit d'être, pour être supérieurs.

They loved each other, not driven by necessity, by the "blaze of passion" often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it, the trees and the clouds and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet. Perhaps their surrounding world, the strangers they met in the street, the wide expanses they saw on their walks, the rooms in which they lived or met, took more delight in their love than they themselves did.

But who are we, where do we come from When all those years Nothing but idle talk is left And we are nowhere in the world? = MEETING =

They loved each other greatly. Most people experience love, without noticing that there is anything remarkable about it. To them - and this made them unusual - the moments when passion visited their doomed human existence like a breath of timelessness were moments of revelation, of even greater understanding of life and of themselves.

You are anxious about whether you will rise from the dead or not, but you rose from the dead when you were born and you didn't notice it.

As he scribbled his odds and ends, he made a note reaffirming his belief that art always serves beauty, and beauty is delight in form, and form is the key to organic life, since no living thing can exist without it, so that every work of art, including tragedy, expresses the joy of existence.

They loved each other because everything around them willed it, the trees, and the clouds, and the sky over their heads, and the earth under their feet. Perhaps their surrounding world, the strangers they met in the street, the landscapes drawn up for them to see on their walks, the rooms in which they lived and loved, were even more pleased with their love than they were themselves.

Man is born to live, not to prepare for life. Life itself, the phenomenon of life, the gift of life, is so breath-takingly serious!

There is nothing to fear. There is no such thing as death. Death has nothing to do with us. But you said something about being talented--- that it makes one different. Now, that does have something to do with us. And talent in the highest and broadest sense means talent for life.

You said that facts are meaningless, unless meanings are put into them. Well, Christianity, the mystery of the individual, is precisely what must be put into the facts to make them meaningful.

The poet gives his whole life such a voluntarily steep incline that it is impossible for it to exist in the vertical line of biography where we expect to meet it. It is not to be found under his own name and must be sought under those of others, in the biographical columns of his followers. The more self-contained the individuality from which the life derives, the more collective, without any figurative speaking, is its story.

For life, too, is only an instant, Only the dissolving of ourselves In the selves of all others As if bestowing a gift –

Were all times captives, hostages of Eternity