Quotes About Existence

Yet without the darkness," said Palin suddenly, "we would never be aware that the stars exist.

Why Is It That When You Wash Two Socks You Only End Up With One? Is There Life After Death? and Where Did The Other Sock Go?

My waking and sleeping seem mixed together. I'm walking in a dream half the time, and sleeping through reality the other half.

Once you are real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.

L'hôpital existe à Hiroshima. Comment aurais-je pu éviter de le voir?

The story of my life doesn't exist. Does not exist. There's never any center to it. No path, no line. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it's not true, there was no one.

You didn't have to attract desire. Either it was in the woman who aroused it or it didn't exist. Either it was there at first glance or else it had never been.

In a thousand years time this day will have existed for a thousand years to the day. And the ignorance of the whole world about what they've said today will have a date too.

La escritura: la escritura llega como el viento, está desnuda, es la tinta, es lo escrito, y pasa como nada pasa en la vida, nada, excepto eso, la vida.

It's while it's being lived that life is immortal, while it's still alive. Immortality is not a matter of more or less time, its not really a question of immortality but of something else that remains unknown. It's as untrue to say it's without beginning or end as to say it begins and ends with the life of the spirit, since it partakes both of the spirit and of the pursuit of the void.

You ask: Why is the malady of death fatal? She answers: Because whoever has it doesn't know he's a carrier, of death. And also because he's like to die without any life to die to, and without even knowing that's what he's doing.

Nunca hay centro. Ni camino, ni línea. Hay vastos pasajes donde se insinúa que alguien hubo. No es cierto, no hubo nadie.

L'écrit ça arrive comme le vent, c'est nu, c'est de l'encre, c'est l'écrit, et ça passe comme rien d'autre ne passe dans la vie, rien de plus, sauf elle, la vie. »

Ng??i ta không tìm th?y ná»—i cô Ä'Æ¡n, ng??i ta t?o ra nó. Ná»—i cô Ä'Æ¡n, nó tá»± sinh ra.

Con frecuencia, al terminar el trabajo, a uno le asalta el recuerdo de la más grande de las injusticias. Hablo de lo cotidiano de la vida. No es por la mañana, es al atardecer cuando eso invade las casas, nos invade a nosotros. Y si no se es así, no se es absolutamente nada. Se es: nada. Y siempre en todos los casos de todos los pueblos, se sabe.

Es la mayor injusticia del tiempo, de todos los tiempos: y si uno no llora por eso una sola vez en su vida no llora por nada. Y no llorar nunca es no vivir.

Y.A.: Et après la mort, qu'est-ce qui reste? M.D.: Rien. Que les vivents qui se sourient, qui se souviennent.

Non ho una storia. Così come non ho una vita. La mia vita viene frantumata ogni giorno, ogni istante di ogni giorno, dal presente della vita, e non ho alcuna possibilità di vedere chiaramente quello che viene chiamato: la propria vita.

NgÆ°Æ¡Ì€i ta không tiÌ€m th?y n?i cô Ä'Æ¡n, ngÆ°Æ¡Ì€i ta taÌ£o ra nó. N?i cô Ä'Æ¡n, nó tÆ°Ì£ sinh ra.

It's in this valor, human, absurd, that I see true grace.

Death came before the end of his story. When he was still alive it had already happened.

they go along together without any sign of impatience, in the way they are alone in a crowd, without happiness, it seems, without sadness, without curiosity, going along without seeming to, without meaning to just going this way rather than that, alone in the crowd, never alone even by themselves, always alone even in the crowd.

V?n chÆ°Æ¡ng, nó ??n nhÆ° cÆ¡n gió, nó tr?n tr?i, nó là má»±c vi?t, nó là Ä'i?u ???c vi?t ra, và nó trôi qua nhÆ° không có b?t k? Ä'i?u gì khác trôi qua trong ??i, không gì hÆ¡n, ngoài nó, cuá»™c s?ng.

La historia de mi vida no existe. Eso no existe. Nunca hay centro. Ni camino, ni línea. Hay bastos pasajes donde se insinúa que alguien hubo, no es cierto, no hubo nadie.