Quotes About Existence

If it's all been dream and delirium may death ripen me in my dream.

No happiness or pain, no more forgetting.

A poor humiliated love burns in the house I see. In the vastness of the world, full of hard marvels, this love exists and suffers, wounded as no other.

Already she was climbing the wind, already was not and didn't know it . . .

E la mia forza supina si stampa nell'arena, diffondesi nel mare; e il fiume è la mia vena, il monte è la mia fronte, la selva è la mia pube, la nube è il mio sudore. E io sono nel fiore della stiancia, nella scaglia della pina, nella bacca del ginepro: io sono nel fuco, nella paglia marina, in ogni cosa esigua, in ogni cosa immane, nella sabbia contigua, nelle vette lontane. Ardo, riluco. E non ho più nome.

I am beyond Right and Left, just as I am beyond good and evil… I am a man devoted to life, not to formulas.

How does every person not cry out all the time?

Death is a state of mind---many people on Earth spend their entire lives dead.

I don't want to die," A.J. says after a bit. "I just find it difficult to be here all the time.

How long does a dream have to last before it's just life?

And this is the truth of any game - it can only exist at the moment that it is being played. It's the same with being an actor. In the end, all we can ever know is the game that was played, in the only world that we know.

If your last words are somehow meant to encapsulate your entire existence, Liz finds um strangely appropriate. Um means nothing. Um is what you say while you're thinking of what you'll really say. Um suggests someone interrupted before they'd begun. Um is a fifteen-year-old girl who gets hit by a taxicab in front of a mall on the way to help pick out a prom dress for a prom she isn't even going to, for God's sake.

To be alive was to accept that your were fundamentally alone.

The fish does not die with regrets because the fish cannot love. I die with regrets, and yet I am glad I am not a fish.

All of these teeth had once been in real, live people. They had talked and smiled and eaten and sang and cursed and prayed. They had brushed and flossed and died. In English class, we read poems about death, but here, right in front of me was a poem about death too.

She had once read in a book about consciousness that over the years, the human brain makes an AI version of your loved ones. The brain collects data, and within your brain, you host a virtual version of that person. Upon the person's death, your brain still believes the virtual person exists, because, in a sense, the person still does. After a while, though, the memory fades, and each year, you are left with an increasingly diminished version of the AI

Always remember, mine Sadie: life is very long, unless it is not." Sadie knew this to be a tautology, but it also happened to be true.

There's a difference between being alive and living.

How could a person still be as young as he objectively knew himself to be and have had so much time pass?

We are all living, at most, half of a life, she thought. There was the life that you lived, which consisted of the choices you made. And then, there was the other life, the one that was the things you hadn't chosen. And sometimes, this other life felt as palpable as the one you were living.

How strange and beautiful human beings are. And how fragile.

I am here with you, his body seemed to say, but I acknowledge that we are separate beings.

this is the truth of any game—it can only exist at the moment that it is being played.

Visto che siamo al mondo, stiamo tutti morendo.