Quotes About Existence

No matter where you go, there you are

We're all water from different rivers, That's why it's so easy to meet, We're all water in this vast, vast ocean, Someday we'll evaporate together.

You are water I'm water we're all water in different containers that's why it's so easy to meet someday we'll evaporate together.

I was afraid of being annihilated on account of saying no: those who refuse to fulfill their duties lose their right to exist.

Consiousness sticks language onto existence, papering over existential facts that stick out awkwardly; or it attached words to such objects like ropes whereby it can drag and fling them about as it pleases.

Then you begin to give up the very idea of belonging. Suddenly this thing, this belonging,it seems like some long, dirty lie ... and I begin to believe that birthplaces are accidents, that everything is an accident. But if you believe that, where do you go? What do you do? What does anything matter?

I do feel comforted to discover I'm not the only person on this earth who has no idea what life is for, nor what is to be done with all this time aside from filling it.

Maybe it doesn't matter that life never blossomed into something larger than itself.

Life's not a video game, Felix- there aren't a certain number of points that send you to the next level. There isn't actually any next level. The bad news is that everybody dies at the end. Game Over.

When a human being becomes a set of data on a website like Facebook, he or she is reduced. Everything shrinks. Individual character. Friendships. Language. Sensibility. In a way it's a transcendent experience: we lose our bodies, our messy feelings, our desires, our fears.

She lost God so smoothly and painlessly she had to wonder what she'd ever meant by the word.

She struggled to think of anyone besides perhaps James Baldwin and Jesus who had experiences the profound isolation and loenliness she now knew to be the one and only true reality of this world.

To fear the contagion of poverty is reasonable. To keep voting for policies that ensure the permanent existence of an underclass is what is meant by 'structural racism'.)

I want to stay still and to keep moving. I want this life and another.

And then you begin to give up the very idea of belonging. Suddenly this thing, this belonging, it seems some long, dirty lie... and I begin to believe that birthplaces are accidents, that everything is an accident. But if you believe that, where do you go? What do you do? What does anything matter?

War transforms its participants. What was once necessary appears inessential; what was taken for granted, unappreciated and abused now reveals itself to be central to our existence. Strange inversions proliferate.

On cold days a man can see his breath, on a hot day he can't. On both occasions, the man breathes.

I think Seneca is right: life feels longer the more you engage with it.

Watching this manic desire to make or grow or do 'something', that now seems to be consuming everybody, I do feel comforted to discover I'm not the only person on this earth who has no idea what life is for, nor what is to be done with all this time aside from filling it.

Writing exists (for me) at the intersection of three precarious, uncertain elements: language, the world, the self.

We felt we had our place in time. What person on the earth doesn't feel this way?

hr?za se ze vÅ¡ech emocí, co jich na svÄ›tÄ› je, nejvíc vzpírá tomu, aby si ji ?lovÄ›k dokázal udržet déle než okamžik.

In this lengthy riposte, the philosopher informs Paulinus that "learning how to live takes a whole life," and the sense most of us have that our lives are cruelly brief is a specious one: "It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.

But i cannot be worrying-worrying all the time about the *truth*. I have to worry about the truth that can be *lived with*.