Quotes About Existence

ORDINARY SAD-ASS HUMANNESS

Not that I know of. He had this idea that it was gone, sort of; not gone gone, but gone into everything, the whole matrix. Like it wasn't in cyberspace anymore, it just was.

Are you—are you sad?" —No. "But your—your songs are sad." —My songs are of time and distance. The sadness is in you. Watch my arms. There is only the dance. These things you treasure are shells. "I—I knew that. Once.

But I suppose that is the way of an artiste, no? You needed this world built for you, this beach, this place. To die.

It always makes me uncomfortable," Netherton said, "to see them learn they're in a stub. And then they all immediately assume we're from their future.

Ash," said Lowbeer, fingers extended around the candle as if for warmth, "imagines you a conservative." "Does she?" "Or a romantic, perhaps. She sees your distaste for the present rooted in the sense of a fall from grace. That some prior order, or perhaps the lack of one, afforded a more authentic existence.

No, she thought, not new; the old, the always, the now and ever was.

If there were such a being," she said, "you'd be a part of it, wouldn't you?" "Yes." "Would you know?" "Not necessarily." "Do you know?" "No." "Do you rule out the possibility?" "No.

Now Gentry went to the big display unit, the projection table. "There are worlds within worlds," he said. "Macrocosm, microcosm. We carried an entire universe across a bridge tonight, and that which is above is like that below.… It was obvious, of course, that such things must exist, but I'd not dared to hope.…

Just now she wishes lives could be replaced as easily, but knows that that isn't right. However odd things seem, mustn't it be to exactly that extent of oddness that a life is one's own, and no one else's?

It was vaguely like riding a roller coaster that phased in and out of existence at random, impossibly rapid intervals, changing altitude, attack, and direction with each pulse of nothingness, except that the shifts had nothing to do with any physical orientation, but rather with lightning alternations in paradigm and symbol system. The data had never been intended for human input.

You got a watch?" he asked Maelcum. The Zionite shook his locks. "Time be time." "Jesus," Case said, and closed his eyes.

What I mean is... maybe it's only us...

Life's scientific, but we don't know, do we? Not certainly, I mean.

Sleep is where we touch what is better left unexamined. There, the whole of life is bundled up, dwindled. There the carefully hoarded and enjoyed personality, our only treasure and at the same time our only defense must die into the ultimate truth of things, the black lightning that splits and destroys all, the positive, unquestionable nothingness.

If you accept life dully, you can go through it moving not among things but among words.

ÎnÈ›elese deodat? plictiseala acestei vieÈ›i unde fiecare poteca era o improvizaÈ›ie, iar o buna parte din viata diurna È›i-o petreceai urm?rindu-È›i piciorele

His manual of heaven and hell lay open before me, and I could perceive my nothingness in this scheme.

Yet I was wound up. I tick. I exist. I am poised eighteen inches over the black rivets you are reading, I am in your place, I am shut in a bone box and trying to fasten myself on the white paper. The rivets join us together and yet for all the passion we share nothing but our sense of division.

History is the nothing people write about a nothing.

It seems to me that we do live in two worlds... there is this physical one, which is coherant, and there is the spiritual one, which to the average man with his flashes of religious experience, is very often incoherant. This experience of having two worlds to live in all the time, or not all the time, is a vital one, and is what living is like.

Life itself is a rickety building

I want the truth of things. But there's nowhere to find it.

Philosophy and religion - what are they when the wind blows and the water gets up in lumps?