Quotes About Existence

Time itself is talked about as something that is unusual, that there could be a parallel time.

Do what you will, this world's a fiction and is made up of contradiction.

Go up in an airplane. Go high enough, and it's like we don't even exist.

At the heart of 'The Famished Road' is a philosophical conundrum - for me, an essential one: what is reality? Everybody's reality is subjective; it's conditioned by upbringing, ideas, temperament, religion, what's happened to you.

I could have easily said that I don't believe in anything when I came out of the upbringing that I had, but I do still believe that there is something there, and I have a difficult time figuring it out. I suppose I don't want to be thought of as stupid or unintelligent because I believe that there's something out there bigger than us in the world.

One is not born a woman - one becomes one.

Work is the rent you pay for the room you occupy on earth.

I have looked into most philosophical systems and I have seen that none will work without God.

I am a firm believer in reincarnation for people who either have more work to do or have so much debt to pay back that they have to be here.

I don't work, I live... I don't have a job, I just have a life.

Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad.

I cannot conceive any work of art as having a separate existence from life itself

God is present everywhere, and every person is His work.

Work isn't to make money; you work to justify life.

Well, while I'm here I'll do the work — and what's the work? To ease the pain of living. Everything else, drunken dumbshow.

We spend our lives on the run: we get up by the clock, eat and sleep by the clock, get up again, go to work - and then we retire. And what do they give us? A bloody clock.

This world could not have been the work of an all-loving being, but that of a devil, who had brought creatures into existence in order to delight in the sight of their sufferings.

Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be.

Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior ofcapital, and deserves muchthe higher consideration.

Every living being is an engine geared to the wheel-work of the universe.

There are no ordinary people.. it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit.

The work is not simply about an occupation .. but why you are here.

The most precious thing in the world: me, because if there was no me, nothing could work out in this world

What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt, Myself unwitting where their Master dwells?