Quotes About Existence

Nansen was asked by Joshu, 'What is the Way?' He replied, 'Your everyday mind is the Way [Heijoshin kore do].

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophies

We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

To be or not to be that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the stings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take up arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing them, end them.

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...

The inaudible and noiseless foot of time.

Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on 's are sophisticated; thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come; unbutton here.

Thou know'st 'tis common; all that live must die,Passing through nature to eternity.

What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant knaves, all.

There's place and means for every man alive.

As the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, "That, that is, is."

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither.

All the world is a stage and each and every person is a player

All the world's a stage, and all men and women merely players;

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

Life is a tale told by an idiot -- full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying Nothing.

Simply the thing I am shall make me live.

Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.

The sands are number'd that make up my life.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

The possibilities that are suggested in quantum physics tell us that everything that we're looking at may not be in fact there, so the underlying nature of being is weird.