Quotes About Existence

The demand for continuity has, over large tracts of science, proved itself to possess true prophetic power. We ought therefore ourselves sincerely to try every possible mode of conceiving the dawn of consciousness so that it may not appear equivalent to the irruption into the universe of a new nature, non-existent until then.

Religious feeling is thus an absolute addition to the subject's range of life. It gives him a new sphere of power. When the outward battle is lost, and the outward world disowns him, it redeems and vivifies an interiour world which otherwise would be an empty waste.

THERE IS A river that runs through time and the universe, vast and inexplicable, a flow of spirit that is at the heart of all existence, and every molecule of our being is a part of it. And what is God but the whole of that river?

We breathe love in and we breathe love out. It's the essence of our existence, the very air of our souls.

That I was poor and without means seemed to me the most bearable part of it, but it was harder that I was numbered among the nameless, that I was one of the millions whom chance permits to live or summons out of existence without even their closest neighbors condescending to take any notice of it. In addition, there was the difficulty which inevitably arose from my lack of schooling.

a nation comes into existence with its mythology… The unity of its thinking, which means a collective philosophy, [is] presented in its mythology; therefore its mythology contains the fate of the nation.

All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man. The air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

If we don't have time for masterpiece moments, the very reason we came to earth is being wasted on us.

The point is that you are an individual inasmuch as you exist in a social matrix of others who respect your individuality and your right to make choices. That's concrete individuality: an individuality that it owes its existence to a kind of communal respect on the part of all the other individualities, and that it had better therefore respect them similarly.

Heaven might not be what everyone thinks it is, but that don't mean it's a myth.

We are all philosophers here where I am, and we debate among many other things the question of where it is that we live. On that issue I am a liberal. I live in the interstice yes, but I live in both the city and the city.

point is that you are an individual inasmuch as you exist in a social matrix of others who respect your individuality and your right to make choices. That's concrete individuality: an individuality that recognizes that it owes its existence to a kind of communal respect on the part of all the other individualities, and that it had better therefore respect them similarly.

I share the streets with aimlessly moving scraps of paper and little whirlwinds of dust, with motes that pass like erratic thieves under eaves and through doors.

Was it that these particular occult streets had been made, then hidden? Their names leaked as traps in an elaborate double-bluff, so that no one could go except those who knew that such traps were actually destinations? Or were there really no streets there when the traps were set? Perhaps these cul-de-scas were residues, yawned into illicit existence when the atlases were drawn up by liars.

As Lichtenberg said of angels," he wrote in one of his last letters, "so I say of dust. If they, or it, ever could speak to us, why in God's name should we understand?

No existe nada igual en ningún sitio -dijo -. En ningún sitio. No se trata de los sonidos. No es en los sonidos donde vive el significado.

Can living artwork die? Can it live before it dies?

There are two perfect men one dead, and the other unborn.

There are two perfectly good men, one dead, and the other unborn

Nothing but water -- an ever-moving swell; nothing but waves, swiftly forming and instantly dying; nothing but depths; dark, fathomless depths; and nothing but sky, scudding white clouds, puffy and intangible. This was the living world, nothing besides, nothing else but sea. No winter or summer, no hills or ravines.

What sort of people are they, to act thus?' Yedigei asked aloud; he was deeply upset. 'Everything on earth is important to them, except death.' Yet this thought gave him no peace. 'If death is nothing to them, then it follows that life also has no value for them. What is their purpose in life? For what and how do they live?

For what purpose had all this been? In order that he could fade away in old age, like the glimmer of flame under the grey ashes?

Perfect morality can be declared and lived up to only by him who has sought to live and discover his real identity with the Self, which is ONE-WITHOUT-A-SECOND, EVERYWHERE, IN ALL BEINGS AND FORMS.