Quotes About Existence

But how much can human beings know each other? Aren't all of them cut off, really? Each alone in a big, dark, empty universe? We only trick ourselves when we think that someone else is there. In the end, in the cold lonely end, it's only us, by ourselves, in the blackness. Are you there, Robb? How do I know? Will you die with me, Robb? Will we be together then? Are we together now?......... It's not enough anymore. I'm scared. Suddenly I'm scared.

I would rather believe that God did not exist than believe that He was indifferent.

It is warm, I am alive, I am calm and sad, I hardly know why. In this existence so even, so tranquil, and so gentle as I have here, I am in an element that weakens me morally while strengthening me physically; and I fall into melancholies of honey and roses which are none the less melancholy. It seems to me that all those I love forget me, and that it is justice, because I live a selfish life having nothing to do for any one of them.

Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck.

For what is most dreaded is not the agony of dying, nor yet the strange impossibility that when we do not exist we should suffer for not existing. What is dreaded is the defeat of a present will directed upon life and its various undertakings.

Nothing can be meaner than the anxiety to live on, to live on anyhow and in any shape

The little word is has its tragedies; it marries and identifies different things with the greatest innocence; and yet no two are ever identical, and if therein lies the charm of wedding them and calling them one, therein too lies the danger. Whenever I use the word is, except in sheer tautology, I deeply misuse it; and when I discover my error, the world seems to fall asunder and the members of my family no longer know one another.

Music is essentially useless, as is life.

Religion in its humility restores man to his only dignity, the courage to live by grace.

The effort of art is to keep what is interesting in existence, to recreate it in the eternal.

Happiness is the only sanction of life where happiness fails, existence remains a mad and lamentable experiment.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colors of life in all their purity.

That life is worth living is the most necessary of assumptions, and were it not assumed, the most impossible of conclusions.

why shouldnt things be largely absurd, futile, and transitory? they are so, and we are so, and they and we go together.

The fact of having been born is a bad augury for immortality.

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament.

I love moving water, I love ships, I love the sharp definition, the concentrated humanity, the sublime solitude of life at sea. The dangers of it only make present to us the peril inherent in all existence, which the stupid, ignorant, untravelled land-worm never discovers; and the art of it, so mathematical, so exact, so rewarding to intelligence, appeals to courage and clears the mind of superstition, while filling it with humility and true religion.

Time and Space are not prior to creation, they are forms under which creation becomes thinkable.

Music is essentially useless, as life is.

To the uninitiated they have merely murmured, with a pitying smile and a wave of the hand: What! are you still troubled by that? Or if compelled to be so scholastic as to labour the point they have explained, as usual, that oneself cannot be the absolute because the idea of oneself, to arise, must be contrasted with other ideas. Therefore, you cannot well have the idea of a world in which nothing appears but the idea of yourself.

The brute necessity of believing something so long as life lasts does not justify any belief in particular.

Everything was real; inconceivably real, infinitely dear. These and all things started as nothing, latent within a vast energy-broth, but then we named them, and loved them, and, in this way, brought them forth. And now we must lose them.

Why was she dancing? No reason. Just alive, I guess.

Why were we put here, so inclined to love, when end of our story = death? That harsh. That cruel. Do not like.