Quotes About Existence

While I undressed I reflected on the difficulty of believing in the existence of certain human beings, my uncle among them, even in the face of unquestionable evidence—indications sometimes even wanting in the case of persons for some reason more substantial to the mind—that each had dreams and desires like other men.

I'm not a religious chap. I don't know anything about that sort of thing. But there must be something beyond all this sex business.' 'Yes.' 'You think so?' 'Oh yes. Quite likely. Why not?' 'But what?' 'I can't help.' 'You can't.

Life becomes more and more like an examination where you have to guess the questions as well as the answers. I'd long decided there were no answers. I'm beginning to suspect there aren't really any questions either, none at least of any consequence, even the old perennial, whether or not to stay alive.

It had neither memories of the past nor hope for the future.

To arrive was to die a little.

Man is born to live and not to prepare to live." —BORIS PASTERNAK

To be always acting a part rather than living her own life was to her everything.

All suffering is relative to experience, and life while it is everything is also not much at all.

Those who live, live off the dead.

not once more will/I be found with beings/who swallowed the rail of life//And one day I found myself with beings/who swallowed the nail of life/-as soon as I lost my matrix mamma,//and the being twisted under him,/and god poured me back to her/(the motherfucker)...

Vivir no es otra cosa que arder en preguntas.

When we speak the word "life," it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach.

And truly must it be reduced to this stinking gas, my body? To say that I have a body because I have a stinking gas that forms inside me? (To have done with the judgement of God, 1947)

Estoy en el punto donde ya no toco a la vida, pero tengo en mí todos los apetitos y la titilación insistente del ser. Sólo tengo una ocupación: rehacerme.

A thing named is a dead thing, and it's dead because it is set apart…

There where it smells of shit it smells of being. Man could just as well not have shat, not have opened the anal pouch, but he chose to shit as he would have chosen to live instead of consenting to live dead.

To confront the metaphysics I have created for myself, in accordance with the void I carry within me.

Uzam, zaman, boyut, oluÅŸ, gelecek, ilerisi, varl?k, varolmay??, ben, ben olmayan, hiçbir ÅŸey ifade etmiyorlar bana.

Là ou ça sent la merde ça sent l'être. L'homme aurait très bien pu ne pas chier, ne pas ouvrir la poche anale, mais il a choisi de chier comme il aurait choisi de vivre au lieu de consentir à vivre mort. C'est que pour ne pas faire caca, il lui aurait fallu consentir à ne pas être, mais il n'a pas pu se résoudre à perdre l'être, c'est-à-dire à mourir vivant.

We all woke up this morning and we had with it the amazing return of our conscious mind. We recovered minds with a complete sense of self and a complete sense of our own existence — yet we hardly ever pause to consider this wonder.

Possibility means freedom. The measure of freedom enters into the concept of man. That the objective possibilities exist for people not to die of hunder and that people do die of hunger, has its importance, or so one would have thought. But the existence of the objective conditions, of possibilities or of freedom is not yet enough: it is necessary to know them, and know how to use them.

Perhaps the most indispensable thing we can do as human beings, every day of our lives, is remind ourselves and others of our complexity, fragility, finiteness, and uniqueness.

Like a blazing comet, I've traversed infinite nights, interstellar spaces of the imagination, voluptuousness and fear. I've been a man, a woman, an old person, a little girl, I've been the crowds on the grand boulevards of the capital cities of the West, I've been the serene Buddha of the East, whose calm and wisdom we envy. I've known honor and dishonor, enthusiasm and exhaustion. ...I've been the sun and the moon, and everything because life is not enough.

The hour of courage has struck on the clock …', ran Anna Akhmatova's poem at that moment when the very existence of Russia appeared to be in mortal danger.