Quotes About Purpose

Tragic art is the organization of a small portion of an otherwise meaningless world that gives purpose to an individual existence.

You either have to write or you shouldn't be writing. That's all.

I cannot abide useless people.

If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.

Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh and cruel. But that's why there's us. Champions. It doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world was what it should be, to show it what it can be.

Well, I guess I kinda worked it out. If there's no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters... , then all that matters is what we do. 'Cause that's all there is. What we do. Now. Today.

I'm pissed like this rutting beast can't conceive - I'm a lifetime of pissed, of strong, of muscle built over bruise, I'm slick with power and feel the fight as it changes... As it flows... ...Everything into place, perfect, and I finally do what I was born to do. I slay.

Everything is a drug. Family, art, causes, new shoes... We're all just tweaking our chem to avoid the void.

I believe that if you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts, they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned.

So a lot of these images are kept for – they serve a certain purpose. They can open up a moment, like that crow. It gives a place of peace. That's how we humans find meaning. We find it in metaphor. It inspires us and keeps us going.

Dear girl! Life is addictive. Yet we must live.

For the writer, the serial killer is, abstractly, an analogue of the imagination's caprices and amorality; the sense that, no matter the dictates and even the wishes of the conscious social self, the life or will or purpose of the imagination is incomprehensible, unpredictable.

whatever you do, with whom you do it or whether you do it alone, and when, and how, and why, to what mysterious end—it's balanced against nothing, against Death and forgetting. You balanced against oblivion.

It's where we go, and what we do when we get there, that tells us who we really are.

Messes are made by people who want but don't know what they want, let alone how to get it.

You have hardened your heart against your "American cousin." It was courageous in the memoir to state so clearly how you had to harden your heart against so much, to survive. Americans believe that suffering makes saints of us, which is a joke. Still I realize you have no time for me in your life now. There is no "purpose" to me. Even

Sunny wintry days. The idyll of (inner) loneliness. What am I going to do with my life?

I am snatching at things to prove my life.

A career is not a life. Only a family is a life.

There was no purpose to learning useless things, that would only clutter our brains like debris stuffed to overflowing in a trash bin.

Nothing is more lonely than fucking 'good works.

And he'd died because that life had mattered to him.

My purpose in life is to do right and to glorify God.

Is there any real purpose in being alive if all we are going to do is get up every day and live only for ourselves? Live your life to help others. Give & live selflessly.