Quotes About Existential

Existential nausea comes from feeling trapped. It is an affect state resulting from the feeling that the future has only bad options. Of course every human faces the fact of individual death, and therefore existential nausea must be to a certain extent a universal experience, and something that must be dealt with by one mental strategy or another. Most people appear to learn to ignore it, as if it were some low chronic pain that has to be endured.

It is a splendid thing to exist sometimes.

Scary is time passing and sickness and dying and regret and isolation and loneliness and relationship problems - as opposed to a guy in a hockey mask, which didn't seem that scary.

The death of God left the angels in a strange position.

Though man needs to live to believe, he does not need to believe to live.

Picture this: a human finger, cut from its body, its hand...a separate human finger, running hopping along, all hunched over, on a glass sidewalk. I am that finger.

I wished, too, that life could be reset, but reset from when? From each point I could go to an earlier point: warning signs neglected, mistakes aggregated, but it was useless to do so, as I often ended up with the violent wish that I had never been born.

A parte de la vida misma, no veo otropa motivo para seguir viviendo.

To live is to conspire against death knowing that death is our best ally

Why are we all burdened with the duty to destroy everything, change everything, entrust everything to impermanency? Is it this unpleasant duty that the world calls life? Or am I the only one for whom it is a duty?

Ordinary life is even more horrible than war

To say human life had no meaning was the easy part. But Hanio was struck all over again by the huge amount of energy required to live a life filled with so much meaninglessness.

Why were things wrong just as they were? The questions which I had asked myself numberless times since boyhood rose again to my lips. Why are we all burdened with the duty to destroy everything, change everything, entrust everything to impermanency? Is it this unpleasant duty that the world calls life? Or am I the only one for whom it is a duty?

HOW ODDLY SITUATED a man is apt to find himself at age thirty-eight! His youth belongs to the distant past. Yet the period of memory beginning with the end of youth and extending to the present has left him not a single vivid impression.

The big question facing humans isn't "what is the meaning of life?" but rather "how do we stop suffering?

Some people fear that today we are again in mortal danger of massive volcanic eruptions or colliding asteroids. Hollywood producers make billions out of these anxieties. Yes, a big asteroid will probably hit our planet sometime in the next 100 million years, but it is very unlikely to happen next Tuesday. Instead of fearing asteroids, we should fear ourselves.

Technology has changed everything by creating a set of global existential threats that no nation can solve on its own.

Each of these three problems—nuclear war, ecological collapse, and technological disruption—is enough to threaten the future of human civilization. But taken together, they add up to an unprecedented existential crisis, especially because they are likely to reinforce and compound one another.

I had felt the strange happiness countless times. When a shovel met my hand, the damp of a hemp bag soaked my shoulder or rice weighed down my back, I entered a mindless oblivion, as if I had put on magic shoes and could jump out into the abyss, could even jump into death.

Life has existential suffering; we become happy by caring.

Everyone's in love with China." "Ah yes, but my love was stronger and true. I think she knew that, and I think, in her own way, she loved me as much as I loved her. Or loved Gordon as much as he loved . . . no, as much as I loved . . . she loved Gordon as much as I loved her. Or something." "Are . . . are you sure you're OK?" "Just having a small existential crisis, nothing to worry about.

I we are born to die and we all die to live, then what's the point of living life if it just contradicts?

The hell of that, the hell of nothing at all, which feels as if you are reliving every moment of your life at the Southern Reach-descending for no reason, for nothing, to find nothing.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to be is the one who lives