Quotes About Existence

I'm talking metaphysics? But all of life is a metaphysics in the darkness, with a vague murmur of the gods and only one way to follow, which is our ignorance of the right way.

A Decadência é a perda total da inconsciência; porque a inconsciência é o fundamento da vida. O coração, se pudesse pensar, pararia.

The essence of what I desire is simply this: to sleep away life. I love life too much to want it to be over; I love not living too much to have an active craving for life.

Hours of ashen wit, days of spatial longing, inner centuries of outer landscapes … And we did not ask ourselves what it was for, because we took pleasure in knowing that it wasn't for anything.

All that we truly possess are our own sensations; it is in them, rather than in what they sense, that we must base our life's reality. This has nothing to do with anything.

Perhaps the novel is a more perfect life and reality, which God creates through us. Perhaps we live only to create it. It seems that civilization exists only to produce art and literature; words are what speak for it and remain. How do we know that these extra-human figures aren't truly real? It tortures my mind to think this might be the case

For everything that exists I feel a visual affection, an intellectual fondness – nothing in the heart. I have faith in nothing, hope in nothing, charity for nothing. I feel only horror and nausea for the sincere souls of all sincerities and the mystics of all mysticisms, or rather, for the sincerities of all sincere souls and the mysticisms of all mystics.

I've done nothing nor will I ever do anything useful to justify my existence.

La dulzura del pasado? El recordarlo, puesto que recordarlo es hacerlo presente y no lo es ni ya lo puede ser —el absurdo, mi amor, el absurdo.

A vida, para a maioria dos homens, é uma maçada passada sem se dar por isso, uma coisa triste composta de intervalos alegres, (...) Achei sempre fútil considerar a vida como um vale de lágrimas: é um vale de lágrimas, sim, mas onde raras vezes se chora. Disse Heine que, depois das grandes tragédias, acabamos sempre por nos assoar.

To associate is to die. Only my consciousness of myself is real for me; other people are hazy phenomena in this consciousness, and it would be morbid to attribute very much reality to them.

There is no reason for any of our desires to exist. Our attention is an absurdity allowed by our winged inertia.

To explain is to disbelieve. Every philosophy is a diplomacy dressed up as eternity..... Like diplomacy, it has no real substance, existing not in its own right but completely and absolutely on behalf of some objective.

The dead are born, they don't die.

I let my mind wander, and I'm sure that what I'm writing I've already written. I remember. And I ask the one in me who presumes to exist if in the Platonism of sensations there might not be another, less vertical anamnesis – another pre-existing life that we vaguely remember but that belongs only to this life… My God, my God, who am I watching? How many am I? Who is I? What is this gap between me and myself?

Reason is the worst type of dream since it carries me into the dream of the regularity of life which does not exist, that is to say, it is doubly nothing.' 'But what does that mean?' Putting my hand on the other's shoulder and holding him in my arms, 'Aïe, my son, what does anything mean?

Quem sabe se eu estarei morto depois de amanhã? Se eu estiver morto depois de amanhã, a trovoada de depois de amanhã Será outra trovoada do que seria se eu não tivesse morrido. Bem sei que a trovoada não cai da minha vista, Mas se eu não estiver no mundo. O mundo será diferente. Haverá eu a menos. E a trovoada cairá num mundo diferente e não será a mesma trovoada

Each of us is more than one person, many people, a proliferation of our one self.

Nasciamo senza saper parlare e moriamo senza aver saputo dire. La nostra vita trascorre fra il silenzio di chi tace e il silenzio di chi non è stato compreso, e intorno a tutto ciò, come un'ape in un luogo senza fiori, aleggia sconosciuto un inutile destino.

And amid all this confusion I, what's truly I, am the centre that exists only in the geometry of the abyss: I'm the nothing around which everything spins, existing only so that it can spin, being a centre only because every circle has one. I, what's truly I, am a well without walls but with the walls' viscosity, the centre of everything with nothing around it.

Considerar nuestra angustia más profunda como un incidente sin importancia, no sólo en la vida del universo, sino en la de nuestra propia alma, es el principio de la sabiduría.

El propio vivir es morir, porque no tenemos un día más en nuestra vida en que no tengamos, por ello, un día menos.

Hep savunma hatt?nday?m. Hayat?n ve baÅŸkalar?n?n ac?s?n? çektiriyorum kendime. Gerçeklikle yüzleÅŸebilmekten âcizim. GüneÅŸ bile, salt varl???yla eziyor, hüzne boÄŸuyor beni. Sadece gece vakti –geceleyin, kendimle baÅŸ baÅŸayken–, her ÅŸeyden uzak, her ÅŸeyi unutan, ne gerçeklikle ne de bir ÅŸeylerin yarar?yla ilgisi olmayan, yitik gecede kendime kavuÅŸuyor, biraz teselli buluyorum.

Yet my sadness is a comfort For it is natural and right And is what should fill the soul Whenever it thinks it exists