Quotes About Existence

We're dying from the moment we're born

Become such as you are, having learned what that is. She knew what that was now. She was Ursula Beresford Todd and she was a witness.

It wasn't that Theo believed in religion, or a God, or an afterlife. He just knew it was impossible to feel this much love and for it to end.

Of course, I don't believe in God,' Dr Kellet said. 'But I believe in heaven. One has to

of course, i don´t believe in god; Dr Kellet said. but i believe in heaven. one has to.

Life was for absorbing, not recording. And in the end, it was all just paper that someone would have to dispose of after you were gone. Perhaps, after all, one's purpose in this world was to be forgotten, not remembered

Or was it, as everyone told her, and as she must believe, all in her head? And so what if it was—wasn't everything in her head real too? What if there was no demonstrable reality? What if there was nothing beyond the mind? Philosophers "came to grips" with this problem a long time ago, Dr.

Gloria didn't believe in heaven, although she did occasionally worry that it was a place that existed only if you did believe in it. She wondered if people would be so keen on the idea of the next life if it was, say, underground. Or full of people like Pam. And relentlessly, tediously boring, like an everlasting Baptist service but without the occasional excitement of a full immersion.

What he discovered was that the great novels of the world were about three things—death, money and sex. Occasionally a whale.

Life was for absorbing, not recording. And in the end, it was all just paper that someone would have to dispose of after you were gone.

Life's too short," she said. There were days when Jackson thought life was too long.

He noticed that Ursula's ox-eye daisies, wrapped in damp newspaper, were drooping, almost dead. Nothing could be kept, he thought, everything ran through one's fingers like sand or water. Or time. Perhaps nothing should be kept.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage.

She allowed the hum and buzz of the park to lullaby her. Life wasn't about becoming, was it? It was about being. Dr Kellet would have approved this thought. And everything was ephemeral, yet everything was eternal, she thought sleepily.

If hell did exist, which Jackson was sure it did, it would be governed by a committee of fifteen-year-old Italian boys on bikes.

What does it matter what people do? At the end of the day we're all dead.

But then, what constituted real? Wasn't everything, even this life itself, just a game of deception?

Life was all just coming and going, wasn't it? And then eventually it was just going.

I have been transcribing those poems and considering how lucky we are to live longer than flowers, even if not much happens to us.

At a very early period she had apprehended the instinctively the dual life - that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions.

She had tried to forget him, realizing the inutility of remembering. But the thought of him was like an obsession, ever pressing itself upon her. It was not that she dwelt upon details of their acquaintance, or recalled in any special or peculiar way his personality; it was his being, his existence, which dominated her thought, fading sometimes as if it would melt into the mist of the forgotten, reviving again with an intensity which filled her with an incomprehensible longing.

Edna lived a dual life - that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions

She was moved by a kind of commiseration for Madame Ratignolle, -a pity for that colorless existence which never uplifted its possessor beyond the region of blind contentment, in which no moment of anguish ever visited her soul, in which she would never have the taste of life's delirium. Edna vaguely wondered what she meant by life's delirium. It had crossed her thought like some unsought, extraneous impression.

The conditions of her life were in no way changed, but her whole existence was dulled, like a faded garment which seems to be no longer worth wearing.