Quotes About Existence

Ho?emo li mi, kada jednom umremo, postati zvijezde - te malene nakupine svjetlosnog praha na nemilosrdnom polju crnila? Ili samo odlazimo pod zemlju i tamo trunemo?

discovered in herself a still, quiet center she had never suspected to exist.

Reality is bizarre enough for me.

Today is tomorrow, and present is past. Nothing exists and everything will last. There is no beginning, there was no end. No depth to fall, no height to ascend. There is only this moment, this flicker of light That illuminates nothing, but oh! So bright! For we are the spark that flutters in space, Consuming an eternity of a moment's grace. For today is tomorrow and present and past. Nothing exists and everything will last.

The dreamer dreams, and the dreamer within the dream dreams.

Consciousness creates form. It is not the other way around. All personalities are not physical. It is only because you are so busily concerned with daily matters that you do not realize that there is a portion of you who knows that its own powers are far superior to those shown by the ordinary self.

First of all, a soul is not something that you have. It is what you are.

There is no need to justify your existence. You do not need to write or preach to justify yourselves, for instance. Being is its own justification.

Stillness was most natural. To go on scrabbling and running and grasping after some kind of life was aberration; stillness was lasting.

Every first draft is perfect because all the first draft has to do is exist. It's perfect in its existence. The only way it could be imperfect would be to NOT exist.

A sobering thought what if, at this very moment, I am

What is reality, anyway Just a collective hunch.

The few certainties in our existences are pain, death and bereavement.

Wherever there was a scrap of soil amongst the ravaged crags, emaciated trees struggled to cling on: a poignant metaphor for the way so many Nepalis eke out an existence, defiantly surviving on less than nothing.

We all have such stories. It is a brutal arithmetic. But I - I am alive. You are alive. As long as we breathe, we can see and hear. As long as we can remember, all those gone before are alive inside us.

There is no past or future. Using tenses to divide time is like making chalk marks on water. — Janet Frame, Faces in the Water . (The Women's Press Ltd December 31, 1985)

he said apropos of nothing one day, "No talk about 'relationships,' understood?" I think I did have the presence of mind to ask, "Why?" "It's a waste of time," he said. "The existentialists have it right. Whatever is the case, is. No amount of talk is going to change it. The only thing we have to feel responsible for to each other is to pay attention to what's happening between us. It either is or it isn't.

Time is so...fluid where I live

People weren't firecrackers who burst into the night sky with brilliance and glory, and a moment later faded away to nothing. Our souls had to be more lasting than that.

The whole point is that time passes. That things fade. He is already hard to remember. Look, I used to cry because I thought I'd forget. Then I knew that was ridiculous and cried because I remembered. But the truth is that one is the same as the other. Remembering and forgetting are the same bloody thing. He is not alive any more. That's all there is to know. There is no purpose to any of it. The point is there is no point.

There are split seconds in the morning between waking and sleep when you know nothing. Not just things missing like where or who you are, but nothing. The fact of being alive has no substance. No awareness of skin and bone, the trap inside the skull. For these split seconds you hover in the sky like Icarus. Then you remember

It's the physical reality, flesh and blood and bone, of this person with whom I spent the first nine months of my existence, the two of us pressed together in the chrysalis of Mama's womb more closely, for longer, than we would ever touch anyone else.

Tomorrow never happens. It's all the same fucking day, man.

tomorrow never happens. it's the same fucking day, man.