Quotes About Existence

God made them, they must have a purpose, but then, God made lions, wolves, and head lice, too.

Your birthday was the seventeenth of last month, in point of fact." "I missed it anyway, then." He closed the bag and stuffed the uniform far back in his closet. "Not important." "It's important that someone celebrate our existence," she objected amiably.

How could I have died and gone to hell without noticing the transition?

If there is one thing that I have come to hate more than the gods, it is time.

We slaves, we lords, we fools, we men and women, we mortals, we toys of the gods—all the same thing, Palli. They are all the same to me now.

The real you doesn't eat, or drink, or think, or sleep, or die.

the Aeon of Horus we identify with the self-radiant, ever-living sun. All magical pantheons have become aspects of ourselves. We, like the sun, do not die. Death, like night, is an illusion. Life is now seen as a process of continual growth and humanity is developing a consciousness of the continuity of existence that will eventually dissolve the sting of death.53

The rest of the Sephiroth on the Tree of Life are merely aspects of this ONE.

Remember, these are levels of consciousness, and not places or heavens located somewhere out in space.

Cogito ergo sum—I think, therefore I am.

The years are going by us like huge birds, whom Doom and Destiny and the schemes of God have frightened up out of some old gray marsh.

All that is is so because it was to be. Rail not, therefore, against what is, for it was all to be.

For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.

We are one of many appearances of the thing called Life; we are not its perfect image, for it has no perfect image except Life, and life is multitudinous and emergent in the stream of time.

Well, friends, nobody owns nothing in this world. Even your breath is just loaned to you.

Life is sad. Here is someone.

Life was unendurable, and yet everywhere it was endured.

I've come to realize that life, while being everything, is also strangely not much. Except when the light shines on it a different way and then you realize it's a lot after all!

If you were alone when you were born, alone when you were dying, really absolutely alone when you were dead, why learn to be alone in between? If you had forgotten, it would quickly come back to you. Aloneness was like riding a bike. At gunpoint. With the gun in your own hand. Aloneness was the air in your tires, the wind in your hair. You didn't have to go looking for it with open arms. With open arms, you fell off the bike: I was drinking my wine too quickly.

We are lucky simply to be alive together; why get differentiating and judgemental about who is here among us? Thank God there is anyone at all.

John had dreamed so long and hard of this place that he had hoped it right out of existence. Probably no place in the world could withstand such an assault of human wishing.

Surrealism could not be made up. It was the very electricity of the real.

The night before, a whole day could have shape and design. But when it was upon you, it could vanish tragically to air.

All of life seems to me a strange dream about losing things you never had to begin with. About trying to find your glasses when you can't see because you don't have your glasses on.