Quotes About Existentialism

Forgive me but I'm going to keep talking about me who am unknown to myself, and as I write I'm a bit surprised because I discover I have a destiny. Who hasn't ever wondered: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

I write because I have nothing else to do in the world: I was left over and there is no place for me in the world of men

But now that I knew that suffering had been my happiness, I asked myself if I wasn't fleeing toward a God because I couldn't bear my humanity.

A deseroização é o grande fracasso de uma vida.

Só uma vez se fez uma trágica pergunta: Quem sou eu? Assustou-se tanto que parou completamente de pensar.

Somos livres, e este é o inferno.

Y cuando pienso que no existe otro igual al mío en este mundo siento un susto alegre. Y nunca lo habrá. Nunca es lo imposible. [...] ¿Qué hay entre nunca y siempre que los une tan indirectamente e íntimamente?

Na vida nós somos artistas de uma peça de teatro absurdo escrita por um Deus absurdo.

Who hasn't ever wondered: am I a monster or is this what it means to be person?

In Sartre's style of argument, German metaphysics met French sophistry in a kind of European Coal and Steel Community producing nothing but rhetorical gas.

Sartre's existentialism, where it essentially means having the chutzpah to do what it takes so that you may suit yourself—not quite the same thing as being true to yourself.)

Sartre and Camus were only two of the many thinkers about politics who, being gentiles, could stay in Paris and think about politics there if they chose. It was a dubious privilege.

Ik word verteerd door levenstwijfel omdat ik niet zou weten waarover je anders moet twijfelen dan over het leven en ik word verteerd door doodsverachting omdat ik niet weet wat je anders zou moeten verachten dan de dood.

There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes the whole universe for a vast practical joke.

There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own.

Who is this? This is me. Who am I? What am I? What am I? What am I? What am I?

It would be better to disconnect from everything, to float free from my body, to be nothing in an endless night of nothing.

??i tôi là m?t h? vô không vi?t hoa.

Useless, it was useless to get in since I don't want to go anywhere. Bluish objects pass the windows. In jerks all stiff, and brittle; people, walls; a house offers me its black heart through open windows; and the windows pale, all that is black becomes blue, blue this great yellow brick house advancing uncertainly, trembling, suddenly stopping and taking a nose dive.

Perhaps it is impossible to understand one's own face. Or perhaps it is because I am a single man? People who live in society have learned how to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. I have no friends. Is that why my flesh is so naked? You might say—yes you might say, nature without humanity. I have no taste for work any longer, I can do nothing more except wait for night. 5.30:

Unë zotëroj vetëm trupin tim; një njeri krejt i vetmuar, që ka vetëm trupin e tij, nuk mund të fiksojë kujtimet; ato i kalojnë anash. Nuk duhet të ankohem: vetë doja të isha i lirë.

ÅŸu son haftalar içinde bir deÄŸiÅŸiklik ortaya ç?kt?. ama nerede? hiçbir ÅŸeye baÄŸlan?lmayan soyut bir deÄŸiÅŸme bu. deÄŸiÅŸen ben miyim? ben deÄŸilsem ÅŸu oda, ÅŸu kent, ÅŸu doÄŸa; seçmek gerek. deÄŸiÅŸen benim san?yorum.

God, how strongly things exist today.

No street corner has any justification over another one. Custom dissolves into nothingness.