Quotes About Existence

In life there is nothing more than life, in death nothing more than death: we are being born and dying at every moment.

A mesma verdade que existe na verdade. Se consome pelo uso. Ou se reforça pela ausência. Ou nem coisa nem outra. O mistério permanece e nos espanta sempre.

Todos os seres vivos merecem o aceno de uma esperança, mesmo se estão inevitavelmente condenados à morte.

Lost in the mystery of finding myself alive.

We enter this world with birth pains and we leave with similar pains of death.

My happiest moments are those when I think nothing, want nothing, and dream nothing, being lost in a torpor like some accidental plant, like mere moss growing on life's surface. I savour without bitterness this absurd awareness of being nothing, this foretaste of death and extinction.

Cosa so? Cosa cerco? Cosa sento? Cosa chiederei se dovessi chiedere?

Peace at least. All that was dross and residue vanishes from my soul as if it had never been. I'm alone and calm. It's like the moment when I could theoretically convert to a religion. But although I'm no longer attracted to anything down here, I'm also not attracted to anything up above. I feel free, as if I'd ceased to exist and were conscious of that fact.

L'abîme est ma clôture, être moi n'a pas de mesure

I'm older than Time and Space because I'm conscious.

Living is in itself dying because every new day we enjoy is another day of our lives lost.

He must be a grown man, stolid, reliably fulfilling his duties, married perhaps, someone's breadwinner - in other words, one of the living dead.

These of us who have risen highest merely have a deeper awareness of how uncertain and empty everything is.

is reality simply a dream we share?

Without thought he repeated some words which a boy had once chalked on the blackboard between lessons: 'A lump of coal is better than nothing. Nothing is better than God. Therefore a lump of coal is better than God'. And then he traced his own name with his finger on the cracked and broken floor.

There is no real origin for anything. Everything just exists. Everything just exists in order to exist.

We are alive on the very brink of eternity.

And in it's magical pattern there was now a new element, a new glow, a cast of a golden colour which suffused everything, the source of which was a character in a book he had half read of and would never finish. He was not interested in what happened to Jay Gatsby. He was only interested that Jay Gatsby should exist.

They watched the flying foxes wheel above them, like shadows of thoughts, things so indistinct they would not exist without two witnesses.

And at the end of every single day, I stood on the edge of a cliff and stared at the drop and kept trying to find the inner strength to jump off it. Every. Damned. Day. I wrestled with the question of whether to keep on living my lousy existence or simply putting an end to it. For three months. And every day I discovered that ending my life was not an acceptable solution.

If I die before he does, or he before me, eventually we both end up in the same place. That's the odd thing about life. No one gets out alive.

It was tragic enough for the average citizen to know that bloodsucking monsters known as tax collectors already existed; to be informed that there were other inhuman bloodsuckers stalking the night as well, desiring to sink their fangs elsewhere than bank accounts, might simply have been too much for people to bear.

How could there be any part of space that belonged to any specific species, because space had always been and would always be, long after the races that had staked their claims had vanished.

Yet he derives emotional strength merely from the knowledge of her existence.