Quotes About Existence

He already understand that the world consisted of two realms, the visible and the invisible, and that the things he couldn't see were often more real than the things he could.

When a man walks into a room and you shake hands with him, you do not feel that you are shaking hands with him. Death changes that. This is the body of X, not this is X. The syntax is entirely different. Now we are talking about two things instead of one, implying that the man continues to exist, but only as an idea, a cluster of images and memories in the minds of the other people. As for the body, it is no more than flesh and bones, a heap of pure matter.

Todo lo inanimado se desintegraba, todo lo viviente moría. Cada vez que pensaba en esto notaba latidos en la cabeza al imaginar los furiosos y acelrados movimientos de las moléculas, las incesantes explosiones de la materia, el hirviente caos oculto bajo la superficie de todas las cosas.

Without him, we are nothing, but the paradox is that we, the figments of another mind, will outlive the mind that made us, for once we are thrown into the world, we continue to exist forever, and our stories go on being told, even after we are dead.

The human body lives in the mind of one who possesses a human body, and to live inside the human body possessed of the mind that perceives another human body is to live in a world of others.

The sky is white. It smells of the earth, and it is not there. The sky is white like the earth, and it smells of yesterday. All this was tomorrow. All this was a hundred years from now.

Et ce monde étrange continue de tourner.

Aus den fernsten Weiten des Weltraums betrachtet, ist die Erde nicht größer als ein Staubkorn. Bedenke das, wenn du das nächste Mal das Wort "Menschheit" schreibst.

una vida rota por el exceso y la escasez de este mundo

If there is nothing, then, but silence, is it not presumptuous of me to speak? And yet, if there had been anything more than silence, would I have felt the need to speak in the first place?

The world is so unpredictable. Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly. We want to feel we are in control of our own existence. In some ways we are , in some ways we are not...

Time moved in two directions because every step into the future carried a memory of the past

Is that what we mean by life? Let everything fall away, and then let's see what there is. Perhaps that is the most interesting question of all: to see what happens when there is nothing, and whether or not we will survive that too.

En última instancia, una vida no es más que la suma de hechos contingentes, una crónica de intersecciones casuales, de azares, de sucesos fortuitos que no revelan nada más que su propia falta de propósito.

My true place in the world, it turned out, was somewhere beyond myself, and if that place was inside me, it was also unlocatable. This was the tiny hole between self and not-self, and for the first time in my life I saw this nowhere as the exact center of the world.

Time makes us grow old, but it also gives us the day and the night...Lying is a bad thing. It makes you sorry you were ever born. And not to have been born is a curse. You are condemned to live outside time. And when you live outside time, there is no day and night. You don't get a chance to die.

In the deepest, most unalterable sense, he was an invisible man. Invisible to others, and most likely invisible to himself as well. If, while he was alive, I kept looking for him, kept trying to find the father who was not there, now that he is dead I still feel as though I must go on looking for him. Death has not changed anything. The only difference is that I have run out of time.

Mentir es una mala cosa. Hace que lamentes haber nacido. Y no haber nacido es una maldición. Estás condenado a vivir fuera del tiempo. Y cuando vives fuera del tiempo no hay día y noche. Ni siquiera tienes la oportunidad de morirte".

The boundaries of my world had shrunk, but I was still alive, and as long as I could go on breathing and farting and thinking my thoughts, what difference did it make where I was?

No importa -decía-. Un hombre debe vivir el presente y ¿qué importa quién eres la semana pasada, si sabes quién eres hoy?

He finds a fresh sheet of paper. He lays it out on the table before him and writes these words with his pen. It was. It will never be again. Remember.

He did not seem to be a man occupying space, but rather a block of impenetrable space in the forum of a man. The world bounced off him, shattered against him, at times adhered to him - but it never got through.

Existimos para nosotros mismos, quizá, y a veces vislumbramos quiénes somos, pero al final nunca podemos estar seguros, y mientras nuestras vidas continúan, nos volvemos cada vez más opacos para nosotros mismos, más y más conscientes de nuestra propia incoherencia

I was. Then I wasn't anymore. Then I was. Then I wasn't. Now who knows. If the years have taught me anything, kid, it's that anything can happen.