Quotes About Existentialism

I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts.

I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretense, because I felt so sure they could not possibly know the things I knew.

I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretence, because I felt so sure they could not possibly know the things I knew.

I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying though the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretence, because I felt so sure they could not possibly know the things I knew.

I seemed at one bound to have been transported into some lightless region of subtle horrors, where pure, uncomplicated savagery was a posi-tive relief, being something that had a right to exist—obviously—in the sunshine.

Who is Spain? Why is Hitler? Where are the Snowdens of yesteryear?

There is no light. I don't feel like starting my generator. I used to get a big kick out saving people's lives. Now I wonder what the hell's the point, since they all have to die anyway.Dr. Stubbs Catch -22

I used to get a big kick out of saving people's lives. Now I wonder what the hell's the point, since they all have to die anyway.

Well, maybe it is true, Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subded tone. Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it's to seem long. But in that event, who wants one? I do, Dunbar told him. Why? Clevinger asked. What else is there?

Kai dvasios nebelieka, žmogus virsta šiukšle.

if in order to live it is necessary not to live, then what's it all for?

Our lives can only be interpreted in retrospect, yet must be lived from day to day, blindly. What folly, the human condition!

This is my life now. Absurd, but unpredictable. Not absurd because unpredictable but unpredictable because absurd. If I have lost the meaning of my life, I might still find small treasured things among the spilled and pilfered trash.

First thing is when your on Death Row long enough you don't ask WHO AM I because you have learnt nobody would be there anyway.

La desesperación es una enfermedad del espíritu, del yo, y puede adoptar, en consecuencia, tres formas: la desesperación de no ser consciente de tener un yo; la desesperación de no querer ser uno mismo; la desesperación de querer ser uno mismo.   SØREN KIERKEGAARD, La enfermedad mortal     La muerte de una hermosa niña de

You live in a deranged age, more deranged that usual, because in spite of great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is or what he is doing.

You live in a deranged age - more deranged than usual, because despite great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is or what he is doing.

I like to eat crawfish and drink beer. That's despair?

To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.

And as he came he saw that it was spring,A time abhorrent to the nihilistOr searcher for the fecund minimum.

After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is the essence which takes its place as life's redemption.

The destructive character lives from the feeling, not that life is worth living, but that suicide is not worth the trouble.

Humanity's self-alienation has reached such a degree that it can experience its own destruction as an aesthetic pleasure of the first order.

A brain the size of a planet," said Aristide, "and you're as fucked by Sartre as the rest of us.