Quotes About Existence

Humans, being intermediary creatures in both time and space, did not fully appreciate the value of life at every physical and temporal scale.

Unless this was the afterlife. But I doubted it was. I'm not much of a religious person, but most afterlives that I'd heard of were something more than a blank nothingness. If God or gods existed, and this was all they put together for eternal life, I wasn't very impressed with their user experience. So: probably alive.

I am not Death. I am killing; I am the verb, I am the action, I am the performance.

How is it so far?" asked Cloud. "How is what so far?" "This," Cloud said, and motioned around him. "Life. The universe. Everything.

patterns when there aren't any. Imagines causality when there is none. Imagines a narrative where none exists. It's in the design of the brain itself. It's primed to lie." "And primed to believe the lie.

If God or gods existed, and this was all they put together for eternal life, I wasn't very impressed with their user experience.

Their lives were their own, and in their way they loved and feared and wondered and hoped. They did not expect me to be the end of all of that.

Fear isn't the desire to avoid death or pain. Fear is rooted in the knowledge that what you recognize as yourself can cease to exist.

Destiny gets compressed, you know, into just that small fraction of a second you have right in front of you at any one time.

Not longer," I said. "Just, like I've always been here.

Estaba pensando. En eso de ser ficticio y tal.

Oh, and maybe I should say what my name is. Just for the record. It's Rafe. Rafe Daquin. I'm Rafe Daquin, and I'm a brain in a box. Hi.

One cannot live outside the machine for more perhaps than half an hour. VIRGINIA WOOLF, THE WAVES

The body can survive while the soul dies.

Of all the complexities of the ten thousand things, the self-consciousness of man is ten thousand times the most complex.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?

Death was a friend, and sleep was Death's brother.

After the bare requisites to living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he has really existed. He leaves his proof on wood, on stone or on the lives of other people. This deep desire exists in everyone, from the boy who writes dirty words in a public toilet to the Buddha who etches his image in the race mind. Life is so unreal. I think that we seriously doubt that we exist and go about trying to prove that we do.

I'm jus' pain covered with skin.

Act out being alive, like a play. And after a while, a long while, it will be true.

You got a God. Don't make no difference if you don' know what he looks like.

She wasn't happy, but then she wasn't unhappy. She wasn't anything. But I don't believe anyone is a nothing. There has to be something inside, if only to keep the skin from collapsing. This vacant eye, listless hand, this damask cheek dusted like a doughnut with plastic powder, had to have a memory or a dream.

There's a responsibility in being a person. It's more than just taking up space where air would be.

Life passes by in a wink so try to never miss a moment of it.