Quotes About Existential

When someone casually asks me "How are you doing?", I sometimes find myself hesitating, as if caught in a micro-catatonia. The question is both petty and cosmic at the same time. Then I remember: just say "Fine.

Things should be good, I tell myself, but they're, well, not-so-good. Nothing seems to make sense – and it should (shouldn't it?). Granted, things weren't exactly perfect before, but now they're definitely worse (…or so it seems). And this on top of the simplest of things: having to live a life.

Who knows but life be that which men call death,And death what men call life?

My generation, faced as it grew with a choice between religious belief and existential despair, chose marijuana. Now we are in our Cabernet stage.

Personal disintegration remains always an imminent danger.

Is boredom anything less than the sense of one's faculties slowly dying?

My secret demon is called: What's the use?

But will somebody please tell me what's a person to do when they're too afraid of life to live and too afraid of death to die?

It made no sense, but then, life was rather senseless most of the time.

I fell in love with this idea of an old school game character, like Donkey Kong, who looks like a very simple guy but is really wrestling with this very profound struggle: 'What's the meaning of life? What if I don't like this job I've been programmed to do?'

Thus so wretched is man that he would weary even without any cause for weariness... and so frivolous is he that, though full of a thousand reasons for weariness, the least thing, such as playing billiards or hitting a ball, is sufficient enough to amuse him.

It is existentially, hyperbolically, quintessentially unknowable.

There are two infinities that confuse me: the one in my soul devours me; the one around me will crush me

De dónde venía aquella insatisfacción de la vida, aquella instantánea corrupción de las cosas en las que se apoyaba?...

The problems I had existed before I did, and I discovered them.

Sometimes I feel entirely disassociated from what I do. It's a malady of the modern age.

my longing was for Russia...Not Soviet Russia. But nineteenth-century Russia, the Russia of Dostoevsky's saintly prostitutes and Alyosha; of Tolstoy's Pierre; and Aksionov, the sufferer in God Sees the Truth But Waits. A country where the characters in books were allowed to ask one another the questions: How must I live to be happy? What is goodness? Why does man suffer? What is to be done?

Sometimes I feel entirely disassociated form what I do. It's a malady of the modern age.

I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night.

No death, no doom, no anguish can arouse the surpassing despair which flows from a loss of identity. - Through the Gates of the Silver Key

For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men. This I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the abomination within that great gilded frame; stretched out my fingers and touched a cold and unyielding surface of polished glass.

It is better to laugh at man from outside the universe, than to weep for him within.

Ama mistiklerin gördüÄŸü düÅŸlerin dünyan?n ac?mas?z ak?lc?l??? kar??s?nda ne a??rl??? olabilirdi ki?

One night, when I am old, sick, right out of semen, and don't need things to get any worse, I hear the voices again.