Quotes About Existential

Yet my experience is that it's precisely the ones who don't know what to do with this life who are all hot and bothered about what they are going to do with another life.

I'm really interested in how people face existential crises and either overcome them or don't, and in how the human psyche responds.

I feel like I'm 100 years old. I can't tell you what I did today. I can't tell you what I did for seven years. I can't tell you. It happens so seamlessly - I'm just floating along and seven years go by.

For me, a spiritual and existential crisis is the same thing in that your foundation gets rocked.

There's a real existential anxiety at having to exist not just in a generalised social framework, but a capitalist social framework.

I don't like thinking too much about the future - it freaks me out.

When I start thinking about the future it freaks me out.

None of us know what comes after death. All of us, to some extent, are probably mystified or maybe a little bit frightened of it.

I walk through the streets as if I was burning in some eternal bonfire.

What time are we upon and where do I belong?

Fear is the penalty of consciousness forced to stare at itself.

Let us not bandy philosophical nonsense. Every question can be boiled down to the one: Why is there anything?

He poses the existential question of the modern soccer hooligan: "If football violence doesn't take place in the stadium, is it even football violence?

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous bug…

Als Gregor Samsa eines Morgens aus unruhigen Träumen erwachte, fand er sich in seinem Bett zu einem ungeheueren Ungeziefer verwandelt.

and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die.

Thin, without fever, not cold, not warm, with empty eyes, without a shirt, the young man under the stuffed quilt heaves himself up, hangs around my throat and whispers in my ear, Doctor, let me die.

Gece gündüz, uykuda olsun, uyan?k olsun, vücuduna saplanm?? bir oku ta??mak demek. Çekilir ÅŸey deÄŸil bu.

Yetkin, ama ac? veren bir büyü ile buradas?n?z! Benim burada olduÄŸum gibi, daha da elle tutulur biçimde; ben neredeysem siz de oradas?n?z, benim olduÄŸum kadar, daha da belirli.

This afternoon I couldn't get out of bed, not because I was too tired but because I was too heavy - again and again that word, it's the only one that fits me, do you understand this at all? It's something like the "heaviness" of a ship which has lost its rudder and which says to the waves: I'm too heavy for myself and for you too light.

One morning Gregor Samsa found himself, in bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin.

As Gregor Samsa awoke from unsettling dreams one morning, he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.' This is marvelously funny. Instead of waking up from a nightmare, Gregor wakes up into one. Reality, the only balm for bad dreams, is significantly less reassuring when you wake up hideously disfigured.

En se réveillant un matin après des rêves agités, Gregor Samsa se retrouva, dans son lit, métamorphosé en un monstrueux insecte.