Quotes About Existence

If we had no hurt and no sin to speak of, we'd be angels, and amgels can't love the way men and women do.

He is gone and all we have is this world, here and now.

I'm fated to lose everyone I ever love, April said. I already know that. Of course you are, Jet responded in her calm, measured tone. That's what it means to be alive.

Love wasn't rational; there was no proof that it even existed outside of people's imaginings.

Life is a mystery, and it should be so, for the sorrow that accompanies being human and the choices one will have to make are a burden, too heavy for most to know before their time comes. He came home plastered, nearly unconscious

Time is out there. Everything that ever happened is still happening. For instance, if I took your hand in mine." Which he did as he was speaking. "It would be happening for hundreds of years.

In my memories I have set my life in Brooklyn between pieces of glass, separate from my current existence, and this has enabled me to move forward. The past cannot tie me in knots, nor can it cause me to drown. And yet what is stored in glass belongs to me still. Each piece is a part of me: the hummingbirds, the locked doors, Mr. Morris in the yard, the pear tree, the woman covered by bees, and you. Especially you.

Is it not beautiful?" I said of the world around us. Is it not terrible?

I think if I believe in anything, I believe in ghosts.

Life is a mystery, and it should be so, for the sorrow that accompanies being human and

Love is a false construct. It's how people convince themselves that life is worth living.

what she misses most is someone knowing she's alive

Whether you are mortal or not, you go on, even if sorrow nags at you.

Life was beautiful, everyone knew that, but it was also bitter and bleak and unfair as hell and where did that leave a person?

Vamos ter que pagar um preço por sermos felizes? – Todo mundo paga. É isso que significa estar vivo.

Você não pode fingir que algo real não existe.

lifetime is a lifetime whether it lasts one night or a hundred years.

How strange it is to be anything at all.

it—and he peered around at her from under its brim as if from under the rock of another life.

It's just life. You can't beat life.

And did I not think then, What nonsense it is to suppose one man so different from another when all that life really boils down to is getting a decent cup of coffee and room to stretch out in?

To be made of flesh was humiliation.

And whatever troubled him and showed in his face might have been the same old trouble - the problem of occupying space in the world and having a name people could call you by, being somebody they thought they could know.

Detestaba la palabra «evasión» aplicada a la ficción. Podría haber argumentado, y no solo por llevar la contraria, que la evasión era la vida real.