Quotes About Existence

What we leave behind in this life is the memory of who we were and what we did. An imprint, no more. I have learned much. I have become wise. But have I made a difference? I cannot tell.

You die twice. Once when your heart stops beating and again when your name is spoken for the last time.

So here is what actually happened, what happens still: the scene on its parallel track to now, to me: linear and constant, never passing into the past, never speeding into the future.

The point is," Sid Morris says. "This. Now. Paint on your brush, wind at your back, my crappy studio. This is the only certainty. Here: your sensations; your body existing for its moment in time. Everything else is crap.

I have an insidious conviction that between the onset of puberty and the age of thirty, people, like the hypothetical painting in the desert, do no exist without someone looking at them. I didn't. After thirty, I suppose we become a corporeal composite of what all of our viewers have witnessed, a kind of community gelatin.

There are days that walk through me and I cannot hold them.

Büyük bir boÅŸluÄŸuniçinden ç?karak yavaÅŸ yavaÅŸ hayata dönmeye baÅŸlad?,bu belirsizlik an?ndan daha öncesinini yaÅŸamam?? gibiydi.Sonsuz boÅŸluÄŸun içinde ne mant?k ne de an?lar vard?.Karanl?k içinde yüzen bir embriyo gibiydi,ya??yordu,nefes al?yordu ama içinde bulunduÄŸu dünyadan ve benliÄŸinden bir ÅŸekilde uzaktayd?,her ÅŸey pusluydu.

Death, I suspect, will likely be unsatisfying because I will no longer be present to feel the achievement thereof.

Dying," she said in her last week, "is normal. It's as normal as being born.

To belong did not mean ownership. You were not someone's property. The "be" syllable was about existence: "to be" yourself and "to be" in a special place that no one else could occupy within your family except you. The "long" part was about the heart, a place in the heart where a family met and lived together. They didn't just put up with each other. They longed for each other. To belong was not a state of mind but a state of heart.

Life doesn't exist inside language: too bad for me.

IF THERE IS A GOD, GOD IS DISJUNCTION AND MADNESS.

For us there is little to say. After all, we know that death belongs to life, that it is unavoidable and comes when it wants.

El tiempo pasó. Pero el tiempo se divide en muchas corrientes. Como en un rio, hay una corriente central rapida en algunos sectores y lenta, hasta inmóvil, en otros. El tiempo cósmico es igual para todos, pero el tiempo humano difiere con cada persona. El tiempo corre de la misma manera para todos los seres humanos; pero todo ser humano flota de distinta manera en el tiempo.

He had always thought that death was black nothingness, but he had not counted on being awake for it.

It is true that I had wanted to die , but that is peculiarly different from regretting having been born. Overwhelmingly, I was enormously glad to have been born, grateful for life, and I couldn't imagine not wanting to pass on life to someone else.

That such a final, tragic, and awful thing is suicide can exist in the midst of remarkable beauty is one of the vastly contradictory and paradoxical aspects of life and art.

I never again looked at the sky and saw only vastness and beauty. From that afternoon on I saw that death was also and always there.

The complexities of what we are given in life are vast and beyond comprehension.

Others would say to me, It is only temporary, it will pass, you will get over it, but of course they had no idea how I felt, although they were certain that they did. Over and over and over I would say to myself, If I can't feel, if I can't move, if I can't think, and I can't care, then what conceivable point is there in living?

Even in my blackest depressions, I never regretted having been born. It is true that I had wanted to die, but that is peculiarly different from regretting having been born.

Reading, which had been at the heart of my intellectual and emotional existence

Having heard so often, and so believably, John Donne's bell tolling softly that "Thou must die," one turns more sharply to life, with an immediacy and appreciation that would not otherwise exist.

But who says I'm lonely? I'm not lonely.' 'Perhaps all humans are lonely. At least potentially.