Quotes About Purpose

every great dream begins with a dream

It would seem that most everything we do in the name of organizational effectiveness is antithetical to what Life requires

You walk a path enough, you'll wear a groove in it. The groove gets too deep, metaphorically speaking, it becomes difficult to walk anywhere else. Maybe that path is the one you're meant to travel, and that's why the groove is there in the first place.

If you thought of the Everglades when you thought of Florida, picturing its swamps would have served the purpose for you. Remember that Linking is individual, personal—what you think of is usually best for you. And, most often, the first Substitute Word that comes to mind is the best to

If you thought of the Everglades when you thought of Florida, picturing its swamps would have served the purpose for you. Remember that Linking is individual, personal—what you think of is usually best for you. And, most often, the first Substitute Word that comes to mind is the best to use.

I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.

Don't pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world? Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life, and it'd lose even its imperfection.

Nothing so consumes a person as meaningless exertion

Pointless thinking is worse than no thinking at all.

For example, the wind has its reasons. We just don't notice as we go about our lives. But then, at some point, we are made to notice. The wind envelops you with a certain purpose in mind, and it rocks you. The wind knows everything that's inside you. And not just the wind. Everything, including a stone. They all know us very well. From top to bottom. It only occurs to us at certain times. And all we can do is go with those things. As we take them in, we survive, and deepen.

I don't know what it means to live.

Your work should be an act of love, not a marriage of convenience.

I just run. I run in void. Or maybe I should put it the other way: I run in order to acquire a void.

Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life and it'd lose even its imperfection.

You've already decided what you're going to do, and all that's left is to set the wheels in motion. I mean, it's your life. Basically, you gotta go with what you think is right.

From the moment of my birth, I lived with pain at the center of my life. My only purpose in life was to find a way to coexist with intense pain.

Living like an empty shell is not really living, no matter how many years it may go on. The heart and flesh of an empty shell give birth to nothing more than the life of an empty shell.

Human beings are ultimately nothing but carriers-passageways- for genes. They ride us into the ground like racehorses from generation to generation. Genes don't think about what constitutes good or evil. They don't care whether we are happy or unhappy. We're just means to an end for them. The only thing they think about is what is most efficient for them.

People with places to go and people with no place to go; people with a purpose and people with no purpose; people trying to hold time back and people trying to urge it forward

In his own way, he's lived life with all the intensity he could muster.

How can the mind be so imperfect? she says with a smile. I look at my hands. Bathed in the moonlight, they seem like statues, proportioned to no purpose. It may well be imperfect, I say, but it leaves traces. And we can follow those traces, like footsteps in the snow. Where do the lead? To oneself, I answer. That's where the mind is. Without the mind, nothing leads anywhere. I look up. The winter moon is brilliant, over the Town, above the Wall. Not one thing is your fault, I comfort her.

You end up exhausted and spent, but later, in retrospect, you realize what it all was for. The parts fall into place, and you can see the whole picture and finally understand the role each individual part plays. The dawn comes, the sky grows light, and the colors and shapes of the roofs of houses, which you could only glimpse vaguely before, come into focus.

There had to be something wrong with my life. I should have been born a Yugoslavian shepherd who looked up at the Big Dipper every night.

But knowing what I don't want to do doesn't help me figure out what I do want to do. I could do just about anything if somebody made me. But I don't have an image of the one thing I really want to do. That's my problem now. I can't find the image.