Quotes About Existence

The past, present and future lurk in every moment of time. Eternity is hidden in every moment of time. Do you understand?' 'No.' 'Never mind.

In each of us lies a creditor and a debtor at once and the art is for the reckoning to tally inside us. We enter the world as a minute part of the life we are given, and from then on we are ever paying off debts. To ourselves. For ourselves. In order for the final reckoning to tally.' 'Is

There may no longer be faith nor truth in the world, but surely good sense still exists. What say you, Dandelion? Is there still good sense in the world? Or do only contemptibility and contempt remain?

The only thing which exists, which counts, which still has any meaning, is fear.

Because how am I to know, dammit? When I cut my finger, I bleed. I bleed every month, too. I get belly-ache when I overeat, and a hangover when I get drunk. When I'm happy I sing and I swear when I'm sad. When I hate someone I kill them and when—But enough of this! Your answer, witcher.

There's no such thing as devils!" yelled the poet, shaking the cat from sleep once and for all. "No such thing! To the devil with it, devils don't exist!" "True." Geralt smiled. "But, Dandilion, I could never resist the temptation of having a look at something that doesn't exist.

Something can't be a rule if there are exceptions to it. And please don't give me any banal untruths about exceptions proving the rule. Tell me something about exceptions as such." "Only one thing," she said coldly, "can be said about exceptions. They exist. Nothing more.

Everything has been, everything has happened. And everything has already been written about.

Your mother gives birth to you only once and only once do you die," the witcher said calmly.

What a pity humans don't have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they'll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there's greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.

Man föds en gång och dör en gång«, sade häxkarlen lugnt. »En perfekt filosofi för en lus, eller hur?«

Life, it turns out, isn't poetry. Do you know why? Because it's so resistant to criticism.

To die? Why not, if one can fuck around beforehand.

There may no longer be faith nor truth in the world, but surely good sense still exists.

Qué es la verdad? ¿La negación de la mentira? ¿O la afirmación de un hecho? Y si el hecho es una mentira, ¿qué es entonces la verdad? ¿Quién está lleno de sentimientos que le arrastran y quién es la cobertura vacía de un frío cráneo? ¿Quién? ¿Qué es la verdad, Geralt? ¿En qué consiste la verdad?

Cada momento do tempo carrega em si o passado, o presente e o futuro. Cada momento do tempo carrega em si a eternidade. Entende? - Não. - Não faz mal.

All around, wherever one looks, there's greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.

Everything has been, everything has happened. And everything has already been written about. Vysogota of Corvo

O Bom ou o Mal, a Luz ou as Trevas, a Ordem ou o Caos? São apenas símbolos, na realidade não existe esse tipo de polaridade! Todos carregam a Luz e as Trevas um pouco de um e um pouco do outro. Essa conversa não tem sentido. Não tem sentido. Não vou conseguir me convencer do misticismo.

Your mother gives birth to you only once and only once do you die

Progress," he said finally, "is like a herd of pigs. That's how you should look at progress, that's how you should judge it. Like a herd of pigs trotting around a farmyard. Numerous benefits derive from the fact of that herd's existence. There's pork knuckle. There's sausage, there's fatback, there are trotters in aspic. In a word, there are benefits! There's no point turning your nose up at the shit everywhere.

It's as though a cabbage tried to investigate the causes and effects of its existence, called the result of these reflections "an eternal and mysterious conflict between head and root", and considered rain an unfathomable causative power. We, sorcerers, don't waste time puzzling

I lack the imagination. For that reason I have to pack, stuff into my pockets odds and ends, passport, money, and go see what it's really like. Whenever the time of year or the weather changes, I have to pack up whatever I can't do without and visit all those places I've been before, to make sure they still exist

It drew us, because life is made of bits of the present that stay in the mind. The world itself, really, is made of that.