Quotes About Existence

Life is your master, or death is.

There is the past, and there is the future," he had said to his brothers and sisters not long ago. "The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other." He'd been wrong. There was only the present, and it was infinite. The past and the future were just blinders we wore so that infinity wouldn't drive us mad.

It is bodies that makes us real. What is a soul without eyes to look through or hand to hold?

I am stardust gathered fleetingly into form.

We are alive and in the same world

If you can kill it, or it can kill you, it's real.

Unlike those many dead because of him, he had life, and life wasn't a default state—I am not dead, hence I must be alive—but a medium. For action, for effort. As long as he had life, who deserved it so little, he would use it, wield it, and do whatever he could in its name, even if it was not, was never, enough.

Death is permanent," said Less Ellen, "while flesh very much is not.

For what was a person but the sum of all the scraps of their memory and experience: a finite set of components with an infinite array of expressions.

It is life that expands to fill worlds. Life is your master or death is.

Is that all souls are for?" Esmé had asked him earlier. "For when we die?" Mihai could have laughed or cried when she'd asked him that. In all its simplicity her question was like cupped hands holding the meaning of his life. "No," he'd said. "They're for living too.

It (scent) was barely there at all, but in the hint of its existence it was as fragile as night blossoms—not too sweet but just enough, like the dew on a requiem bud in the palest hour of dawn.

Is another universe bigger or smaller than the idea of God? Does it matter? If there is a sphere where 'angels' dwell, is it a matter of semantics whether we choose to call it Heaven?

Humans have gotten glimpses of things over time," he'd said. "Just enough to make the rest up. It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth." "So what's real?" she'd wanted to know. "If you can kill it, or it can kill you, it's real.

It was the understanding—and burden—that unlike those many dead because of him, he had life, and life wasn't a default state—I am not dead, hence I must be alive—but a medium. For action, for effort. As long as he had life, who deserved it so little, he would use it, wield it, and do whatever he could in its name, even if it was not, was never, enough.

What are you?" he asked. Not who, but what.

Existe el pasado, y también el futuro. El presente no es más que el único segundo que divide la una a la otra...

Ölüler daha a??r olurdu. Sonuçta hepimiz birer kabu?uz. Ama bir ölüyü arkada b?rakmak da kalbe a??rl?k yapard?. Bizi gerçek k?lan vücutlar?m?zd?. Görecek gözleri ya da dokunacak elleri olmayan bir ruh neye yarard??

Det är bara döda själar som drömmer om döden [...]. Det är livet som växer och uppfyller världar. Antingen är det livet man tillber eller döden (s. 78).

È la vita che si espande per riempire i mondi. Il tuo padrone può essere la vita, oppure la morte

tiden är ett hav, inte en flod [...]. Den flyter inte iväg och rinner ut. Den bara är ? evig och hel. Dödliga kanske rör sig i en riktning, men det säger inget om dess sanna natur, bara om våra begränsningar. Det förflutna och framtiden är något vi själva har konstruerat (s. 559).

And once upon a time, survival had seemed like an end unto itself. But now... it began to feel like an expedient with no object. Survive for what?

Existe el pasado y existe el futuro», les había dicho a sus hermanos y hermanas no hacía tanto. «El presente no es más que el breve instante que separa uno de otro.»

Viata lunga este o povara, cand este traita in nefericire.