Quotes About Purpose

És most a halálomat érzem mindenben, akármit csinálok. Minden lépés a halálhoz visz közelebb, minden mozdulat, minden lehelet annak az utálatos munkáját sietteti. Lélegzés, alvás, evés, munka, álom, minden, amit csinálunk – halál. Egyszóval élni annyi, mint meghalni!

Le but n'est rien, le développement est tout. Le spectacle ne veut en venir à rien d'autre qu'à lui-même.

Consciousness of desire and desire for consciousness are the same project

But you can't be saying I should walk away from everything I have worked for all my life? No, I am not. What I am saying is that we need to take a much closer look at what we have been calling our life. To what purpose? To see if it is really ours. Once we know what is authentically our own, then we also know what to keep and protect and what to let go.

we are not here on earth to change our destiny but to fulfill it.

If you make meaning, you'll probably also make money.

I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose. —Ludwig van Beethoven

Call me idealistic, but the genesis of great companies is answering simple questions that change the world, not the desire to become rich.

Meaning is not creating a cool place to work with free food, Ping-Pong, volleyball, and dogs. Meaning is making the world a better place.

Nuestro viaje Este libro es para las personas que ven la vida por lo que puede ser, y no por lo que no puede ser. Ellas son las que llevan al mercado una causa –es decir, un producto, un servicio, una organización o una idea– capaz de transformar el mundo en un lugar mejor.

But you must be sure that your imagination and love are behind it, that you are not working just from grim resolution, i.e., to make money or impress people. Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write

Don't worry about what motivates you. What's important is that you are motivated.

What's the point of knocking yourself out for anybody but yourself? The answer was obvious. There wasn't any.

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

We know only two roads One which leads to the factory And the other, Which leads to the Crematorium

What a man does for pay is of little significance. What he is, as a sensitive instrument responsive to the world's beauty, is everything!

I write in order to attain that feeling of tension relieved and function achieved, which a cow enjoys on giving milk.

Once apparently the chief concern and masterpiece of the gods, the human race now begins to bear the aspect of an accidental by-product of their vast, inscrutable and probably nonsensical operations.

You can't do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth.

Wise men told him his simple fancies were inane and childish, and even more absurd because their actors persist in fancying them full of meaning and purpose as the blind cosmos grinds aimlessly on from nothing to something and from something back to nothing again, neither heeding nor knowing the wishes or existence of the minds that flicker for a second now and then in the darkness.

Wherefore do ye toil; is it not that ye may live and be happy? And if ye toil only that ye may toil more, when shall happiness find you?

Perché lavorate? Non potreste limitarvi a vivere ed essere contenti? E se vi affaticate solo per potervi affaticare di più, quando troverete la felicità? Voi dite di lavorare per vivere, ma la vita non è fatta di bellezza e canzoni? E se non sopportate fra di voi un cantore, dove vanno i frutti di tanto lavoro? Lavorare senza divertirsi è come fare un viaggio interminabile senza meta. Non sarebbe meglio morire?

The purpose of my visit, and the frightful abnormalities it postulated, struck me all at once with a chill sensation that nearly overbalanced my ardour for strange delvings.

What he failed to recall was that the deeds of reality are just as inane and childish, and even more absurd because their actors persist in fancying them full of meaning and purpose as the blind cosmos grinds aimlessly on from nothing to something and from something back to nothing again, neither heeding nor knowing the wishes or existence of the minds that flicker for a second now and then in the darkness.