Quotes About Existence

You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself.

Si conocieras el tiempo tan bien como yo m no hablarías de matarlo. El tiempo es todo un personaje

Si conocieras al Tiempo como yo —dijo el Sombrerero—, no hablarías de emplearlo o perderlo. Él es muy suyo.

People have asked the question Can a Thing exist without any Attributes belonging to it? It is a very puzzling question, and I'm not going to try to answer it: let us turn up our noses, and treat it with contemptuous silence, as if it really wasn't worth noticing.

Statistically, the probability of any one of us being here is so small that you'd think the mere fact of existing would keep us all in a contented dazzlement of surprise.

Statistically, the probability of any one of us being here is so small that the mere fact of our existence should keep us all in a state of contented dazzlement.

My mitochondria comprise a very large proportion of me. I cannot do the calculation, but I suppose there is almost as much of them in sheer dry bulk as there is the rest of me. Looked at in this way, I could be taken for a very large, motile colony of respiring bacteria, operating a complex system of nuclei, microtubules, and neurons for the pleasure and sustenance of their families, and running, at the moment, a typewriter.

It is not a simple life to be a single cell, although I have no right to say so, having been a single cell so long ago myself that I have no memory at all of that stage in my life.

If we ever do achieve freedom from most of today's diseases, or even complete freedom from disease, we will perhaps terminate by drying out and blowing away on a light breeze, but we will still die.

Since Life is but a dream, Why toil to no avail?

Das Firmament blaut ewig und die Erde Wird lange fest stehen und aufblühn im Lenz. Du aber, Mensch, wie lange lebst denn du?

Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?

We've left the moment. It's gone. We're somewhere else now, and that's okay. We've still got that moment with us somewhere, deep in our memory, seeping into our DNA. And when our cells get scattered , whenever that happens, this moment will still exist in them. Those cells might be the building block of something new. A planet or star or a sunflower, a baby. Maybe even a cockroach. Who knows? Whatever it is, it'll be a part of us, this thing right here and now, and we'll be a part of it.

To live is to love, to love is to live.

There's no such thing as nothing. In every nothing, there's a something. In fact, there could be everything!

So. Tell me," Marlowe tried gamely, "what do you think is man's greatest invention?" Jericho turned his head just slightly toward Marlowe, looking him straight in the eye. "God.

Reality is a state of mind. To the banker, the money in his ledger book is all very real, though he doesn't actually see it or touch it. But to the Brahma, it simply doesn't exist the way the air and the earth, pain and loss do. To him, the banker's reality is folly. To the banker, the Brahma's ideas are as inconsequential as dust.

Ain't that a sight? With all the things we know and learn, we still ain't touched the big mysteries -- where we come from, where we go next, why we even her. And when something truly miraculous happens, we run and hide in our caves. We deny.

She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams.

All the small, simple, conscious acts of living a sudden defense against the dying we do every day.

But if you abandoned the idea that such a paradise awaited you, and believed that you would live this life over and over again, would you not live the life you had more thoughtfully?

I think about dying every day, because I can't stop thinking about living.

Why must we die when everything within us was born to live?

What was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?