Quotes About Purpose

La historia de todas las civilizaciones importantes de la Galaxia tiende a pasar por tres etapas diferentes y reconocibles, las de Supervivencia, Indagación y Refinamiento, también conocidas por las fases del Cómo, del Por qué y del Dónde. »Por ejemplo, la primera fase se caracteriza por la pregunta: ¿Cómo podemos comer?; la segunda, por la pregunta: ¿Por qué comemos? y la tercera, por la pregunta: ¿Dónde vamos a almorzar?»

Elbette ki hayatla baÄŸlant?l? pek çok mesele vard?r ve iÅŸte size onlar?n en yayg?n olanlar?ndan birkaç?: Ä°nsanlar neden doÄŸar? Neden ölürler? Neden bu ikisi aras?nda geçen zaman?n büyük bir bölümünü dijital kol saatleri takarak geçirmek isterler.

His name was Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. He was a man with a purpose. Not a very good purpose, as he would have been the first to admit, but it was at least a purpose and it did at least keep him on the move.

He experienced one of those "self" moments, one of those moments when you suddenly turn around and look at yourself and think "Who am I? What am I up to? What have I achieved? Am I doing well?

And then whenever I stop and think – why did I want to do something? – how did I work out how to do it? – I get a very strong desire just to stop thinking about it. Like I have now. It's a big effort to talk about it.

It'll have to go," the men of Krikkit said as they headed back for home.

Uma posição radicalmente ateísta pode até significar que sua vida é uma corrida rumo ao esquecimento – mas ao menos você pode fazer isso com estilo.

I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied. Look at me: I design coastlines. I got an award for Norway.

Tried to die, though, but can't. You can't die when you never really lived, can you? It would be redundant.

Destiny is what we work toward. The future doesn't exist yet. Fate is for losers!

You keep waiting for the moral of your life to become obvious, but it never does. Work, work, work: No moral. No plot. No eureka! Just production schedules and days. You might as well be living inside a photocopier. Your lives are all they're ever going to be.

We're all born lost, aren't we? We're all born separated from God - over and over life makes sure to inform us of this - and yet we're all real: we have names, we have lives. We mean something. We must.

Figure our what it is you don't do very well, and then don't do it. I'm not beating myself up about doing everything perfectly. The litmus test I always use for myself is: Okay, if you won 20 million tomorrow in the lottery would you still being doing the same thing you are doing now with your life, Dough? The answer is yes. I'm always very conscious of that.

Sometimes it feels as if everything in life is just something we haul into the grave.

I was sick of wanting money. I was sick of being without a goal.

If somebody wants to run for office, they had better to explain why they want to run for office. Wanting to be a candidate seems, in itself, reason for exclusion.

I broke out into a sweat and the worlds of Rilke, the poet, entered my brain -- his notion that we are all of us born with a letter inside us, and that only if we are true to ourselves, may we be allowed to read it before we die.

When you're young, you feel like life hasn't yet begun, like life is scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays - whenever. But suddenly you're old, and the scheduled life never arrived. I find myself asking, 'Well, then, exactly what was it I was doing with all that time I had before I thought my life would begin?

Lonely people want to be dead, yet we're still not quite ready to go—we don't want to miss the action; we want to see who wins next year's Academy Awards.

IT WAS AN ASTONISHINGLY forgettable day—a Tuesday?—one of those days that come and go, and then at the end of your life you wonder, Man, did I really piss away my life with an endless series of wasted Tuesdays?

Life is boring. People are vengeful. Good things always end. We do so many things and we don't know why, and if we do find out why, it's decades later and knowing why doesn't matter any more.

Religion arose as an effort to explicate the inexplicable, control the uncontrollable, make bearable the unbearable. Belief in a higher power became the most powerful innovation in late human evolution. Tribes with religion had an advantage over those without. They had direction and purpose, motivation and a mission. The survival value of religion was so spectacular that the thirst for belief became embedded in the human genome.

I felt that I was witnessing the beginnings of a great sea change in America. I was deeply moved. Through this terrible ordeal of Vietnam, I believed, we might finally see America becoming what the founding fathers had envisioned, a nation with a moral purpose in the world and a nation that cared about all its citizens. We might see the end of the cynical Nixon-Kissinger version of realpolitik. It hasn't turned out that way, but then we are all a little older and wiser.

Servandae vitae mendacium.