Quotes About Existence

Io, insomma, dovevo vivere, vivere, vivere.

Me ha parecido una suerte que me tuvieran por muerto? Pues bien: estoy muerto de verdad. ¿Muerto? Peor que muerto me lo ha recordado don Anselmo: los muertos ya no tienen que morirse, y yo sí, yo estoy todavía vivo para la muerte y muerto para la vida. En efecto, ¿qué vida puede ser la mía?

Leone: Ah, Venanzi, it's a sad thing, when one has learnt every move in the game. Guido: What game? Leone: Why . . . this one. The whole game — of life. Guido: Have you learnt it? Leone: Yes, a long time ago

As soon as one is born, one starts dying.

One is born to life in many forms, in many shapes, as tree, or as stone, as water, as butterfly, or as woman. So one may also be born a character in a play.

when you are in front of a mirror, the moment you look at yourself again, you are no longer alive.

Why must I, this being, be like this? In life, I had formed for myself no image of myself. Why, then, must I see myself in that body there, why must I see in it an inevitable image of myself?

A character, sir, may always ask a man who he is. Because a character has really a life of his own, marked with his special characteristics; for which reason he is always somebody. But a man—I'm not speaking of you now—may very well be nobody.

reality is not a thing conferred upon us or which exists; it is something that we have to manufacture ourselves.

Maalesef, ben var?m ve siz de vars?n?z. Maalesef.

Ma che finzione! Realtà, realtà, signori! Realtà!

But a fact is like a sack which won't stand up when it is empty. In order that it may stand up, one has to put into it the reason and sentiment which have caused it to exist.

Io non l'ho più questo bisogno, perché muoio ogni attimo, io, e rinasco nuovo e senza ricordi: vivo e intero, non più in me, ma in ogni cosa fuori

To think of death, to pray. It may be that there is one who yet has need of this, and it is to his need that the bells give voice. I no longer have any such need, for the reason that I am dying every instant, and being born anew and without memories: alive and whole, no longer in myself, but in everything outside.

For you can only know yourself when you strike an attitude: a statue: not alive. When one is alive, one lives and does not see himself. To know one's self is to die. The reason you spend so much time looking at yourself in that mirror, in all mirrors, is that you are not alive; you do not know how to live, you cannot or do not want to live. You want too much to know yourself; and meanwhile, you are not living.

No sir, no. We act that role for which we have been cast, that role which we are given in life. And in my own case, passion itself, as usually happens, becomes a trifle theatrical when it is exalted.

Ma, perdiana!, la Natura ha faticato migliaja, migliaja e migliaja di secoli per salire questi cinque gradini, dal verme all'uomo; s'è dovuta evolvere, è vero? questa materia per raggiungere come forma e come sostanza questo quinto gradino, per diventare questa bestia che ruba, questa bestia che uccide, questa bestia bugiarda, ma che è pure capace di scrivere la Divina Commedia […].

Eu já não tenho essa necessidade, pois morro a cada instante, eu, e renasço novo e sem recordações: vivo e inteiro, já não dentro de mim, mas em cada coisa fora de mim.

L'amore che è la cosa piú viva e piú santa che ci sia dato provare sulla terra?

Each on his own assumed the truth as such and appropriated it somehow to fill his solitude and to give some kind of substance, day after day, to his life.

I feel that my life is devoid of meaning and I no longer see any reason in the acts I perform or the words I say, and it astonishes me that other people can move about outside this nightmare of mine... that they can act and speak.

The faculty of deluding one's self that today's reality is the only true one, if on the one hand it affords us a support, on the other hand hurls us into a bottomless void, for the reason that today's reality is destined to discover itself an illusion tomorrow. And life knows no conclusion. It cannot know any. If tomorrow there were to be a conclusion, all would be over.

Because a character has really a life of his own, marked with his especial characteristics; for which reason he is always "somebody." But a man—I'm not speaking of you now—may very well be "nobody.

Quel che di fluido, di vivente, di mobile, di oscuro è nella realtà, sissignori, sfugge alla ragione.