Quotes About Existence

to be free of all restraint, minimally clothed, lying on the bare surface of a planet, sucking in its atmosphere as if it were an aqua vitae, feeling in your chest how it kept you alive!

And this is a very great gift; this, in the end, is what we think love gives, which is to say meaning. Because there is no very obvious meaning to be found in the universe, as far as we can tell. But a consciousness that cannot discern a meaning in existence is in trouble, very deep trouble, for at that point there is no organizing principle, no end to the halting problems, no reason to live, no love to be found. No: meaning is the hard problem.

Only this moment, always. We never get to change the past. We never get to know the future. No reason to wish for one place rather than another; no reason to say I wish I were home, or I wish I were in an exotic new place that is not my home. They will all be the same as this place. Here the experience of existing comes clear. This world is our body. Now

The tiny imaginary audience inside his head did not exist; no one watches our life movies.

Existence is the experiment itself.

When you lose all hope and all fear, then you become something not quite human.

Whether life means anything or not, joy is real.

These differing roles could have led to differing thought processes, such that it would be possible to characterize plausibly the existence of unlike approaches even to ostensibly non-gender-differentiated activities, such as science. So that there could be a male practice of science and a female practice of science, in other words, and these could be substantially different activities.

because we are alive, the universe must be said to be alive. We are its consciousness as well as our own. We rise out of the cosmos and we see its mesh of patterns, and it strikes us as beautiful. And that feeling is the most important thing in all the universe

I was old the day I was born and I'll be young the day I die.

All things remain in God. Even if there was no God. All things remain in something or other. Some kind of eternity outside time.

It is a long time ago. So many lives ago--I get them all confused, don't you?

Life—what was it? So deep and important and full of feeling, so crucial, then suddenly just a blink, a mayfly moment and gone. Nothing really, in the grander scheme; and no grander scheme either. No. A vertiginous perch, the bedside chair in a hospice.

we are always ourselves, no matter where we go. That's what the poem is saying, I think. We have to recognize it, and make what we can here. This world, great as it is, is only just another biome we have to live in.

Andromeda is a very nearby galaxy. It resides

Reality is not a matter of our senses. It can't be visualized.

To write things down as luck wasn't the same as writing them off as non-existent or in some way beneath consideration.

Memories are made of peculiar stuff, elusive and yet compelling, powerful and fleet. You cannot trust your reminiscences, and yet there is no reality except the one we remember......

Es una vergüeza, ¿sabe usted? Es una vergüeza vivir. La nada era tranquila y buena. En calma, apacible e ignorada, giraba en su bondad. Entonces also se movió, brotaron malas convulsiones ¿Qué demonio era el causante? ¿Qué diablo empujó la nada dándole vida? ¿De qué se vengaba? ¿Por qué deben pensar los condenados a la vida? Es una enfermadad , una horrenda maldición...

El tiempo pasaba sin que ella se diera cuenta de nada. Su dolor engullia el tiempo y era más fuerte que él. El dolor era más fuerte que todo. Todas las cosas estaban hechas de dolor. Ella estaba sufriendo, y en su vida sólo consistía en este sufrimiento. Cada respiración era dolor. «La nada era tranquila y buena» - pensó lentamente-

No había dos clases de vida, como ella había creído en aquella noche embriagada: la vida en reposo y la vida en movimiento. Sólo existía la vida, que crecía hacia su encuentro con la muerte.

Growth of the soil was something different, a thing to be procured at any cost; the only source, the origin of all. A dull and desolate existence? Nay, least of all. A man had everything; his powers above, his dreams, his loves, his wealth of superstition.

What if one were up there, drifting about among suns and feeling the tails of comets fan one's forehead! How small the earth was and how puny the people; a Norway of two million provincial souls and a mortgage bank to help feed them! What was life worth at such a rate? You elbowed yourself ahead in the sweat of your face for a few mortal years, only to perish all the same, all the same!

Lykkelige mennesker! Det er også noget å være næsten intet.