Best 119 of Oblivion quotes - MyQuotes
I think about fanaticism - oblivion awaits, especially for minor writers, so you have to be a fanatic; you have to be a crank to keep going, but on the other hand, what else would you do with the rest of your life? You gotta do something.
OBLIVION, n. The state or condition in which the wicked cease from struggling and the dreary are at rest. Fame's eternal dumping ground.
R. Buckminster Fuller
The future is a choice between Utopia and oblivion.
I wanted to make pictures that contradicted themselves. I wanted to put one picture on top of another so that there were times when both pictures disappear and other times when they were both manifest. That vibration is basically what the work was about for me - that space in the middle where there is no picture, rather an emptiness, an oblivion.
Not anymore, though," he said. "And I guess that's the one perk of loving a dead girl. She never changes.
John Howard Griffin
Now you go into oblivion.
J. M. Coetzee
Sleep is no longer a healing bath, a recuperation of vital forces, but an oblivion, a nightly brush with annihilation.
He was nothing but a conduit, after all, and there isn't a culvert in the world that remembers the water flowed through it once the rain has stopped.
It distresses me, this failure to keep pace with the leaders of thought, as they pass into oblivion.
W. G. Sebald
To set one's name to a work gives no one a title to be remembered, for who knows how many of the best of men have gone without a trace?
W. G. Sebald
... the current of time slowing down in the gravitational field of oblivion.
Memory near oblivion. Far death
I love you." Isobel said. Because even if the words could not stop what was coming, they were still her first and sole defense. "I know," Varen surprised her by saying as he turned away. "That's why you're gone.
But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.
And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
You can't be saved, oblivion is all you crave.
Soon, I'd be home again. Soon, God willing, I'd be asleep.
We're not planning for the future. If we continue to spend ourselves into oblivion, we are going to destroy this nation.
Ogwo David Emenike
Things are happening out there. Don’t waste your life in wishful thinking. Get out of your cocoon and go make a name for yourself. Life is too short to be wasted in oblivion.
There was existence in oblivion; there is you in oblivion.
Pliny The Elder
God has no power over the past except to cover it with oblivion.
Remy De Gourmont
Tears flow and smiles fade to the same rhythm of life, to disappear together in the bottomless abyss.
…everything we do is decent when the mind begins to forget — the design of life; and good when we are forgotten — the design of death.
We could either develop paradise on Earth or oblivion; wipe ourselves out, only the future will tell. It's what you do to make the future.
? Natatakot ako na baka hindi ako alalahanin ng mga tao kapag nawala na ako sa mundo. Hindi naman sa sobrang desperada akong gumawa ng good deed just for that pathetic reason, pero aminin man natin o hindi, kahit na gaano pa kasama ang isang tao, kahit sa kaloob looban niya, kahit papaano ay inaasam niya pa rin na maalala siya kapag wala na siya, na mamiss pa rin siya ng mga tao kahit na hindi na siya nakikita pa, na iiyakan siya kahit isang luha lang ang kumawala sa mata ng taong pinapahalagahan niya kapag nalamang pansamantala siyang mawawalay ng matagal sa mga tao, at kahit papaano ay sasabihin ng kahit isang tao man lang na “Kung nandito siya, sana..
Love me like today is the last day we can see stars in the sky, let us sleep under them and throw ourselves into the oblivion and never again reach out for reality.
Literature is the opiate of the educated masses.
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.
What matters is at the end of life, when you're about to pass into oblivion, that you've at least scratched 'Kilroy was here,' on the last wall of the universe.
But here, just at this point: this is limbo. There is the sense that if you stay at this point for too long, stop at this point of oblivion for a certain amount of time, you will just cease to exist. And we cannot move.
In the end, we’ll all face oblivion.
It can't really be you," he said. "I know it can't." "Why not?" Isobel asked, offering him a rueful smile. "I mean, don't you think it's at all romantic, the idea that love could conquer death?
I surf because it keeps my life at an even keel, without it I would tip into the oblivion.
I am the family face; flesh perishes, I live on, projecting trait and trace through time to times anon, and leaping from place to place over oblivion.
And she did seem then to go to sleep instantly: the quick flight into oblivion of the chronically unhappy person.
Time is the River on which the leaves of our thoughts are carried into oblivion.
I can see her struggling to find the right word. Death seems so harsh. Passing so oblique. Some things are beyond words, I suppose, and she never finishes the statement. It seems right, that her words should fall into oblivion; after all, she—like me, like everyone—has no words for what follows, for the unknowable, only her hopes and prayers and an unwavering faith in something more.
You loved her," Isobel said. "Worshipped," Scrimshaw corrected. "But more ludicrous than that, let us not forget, she loved me." He gave a short ironic laugh. "Not just him-the poet. But me as well. I, the epitome of our own penchant for self-destruction. Do you know how difficult...how impossible such a feat must have been?
Jorge Luis Borges
Si para todo hay término y hay tasa y última vez y nunca más y olvido ¿quién nos dirá de quién en esta casa, sin saberlo, nos hemos despedido?
Hush a-bye my little bird Hush a-bye my child I have lost a love so great Oh, woe is me.
Please let him look. I didn't need to hide from someone courting oblivion as ardently as I am.
I have, at times, been absorbed in my work to the point of complete self-oblivion. Once I worked for thirty-six hours without a break - to complete exhaustion; and while I was in the middle of it I didn't even notice.
Travel is a vanishing act, a solitary trip down a pinched line of geography to oblivion.
Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.
He wanted to toast mad idealism, forbidden desires, the dreams that drove one to criminal acts. He wanted, quite starkly, oblivion.
You take me off my path As the wind exhausts the clouds You tell me not to try To hold your face But even if you're only A reflection on a wall -You make me live. And I know that your lips Will triumph from oblivion In the book of the world.
Nowhere and oblivion were completely different things/places to Richard Stein. For him, oblivion is when something goes into nothing and nowhere is the place where something can come out of nothing.
He looks at houses, chateaus, forests, and thinks about the countless generations who used to see those things and who are gone now; and he understands that everything he is seeing is oblivion; pure oblivion, the oblivion whose absolute state will soon be achieved, the moment he himself is gone. And again I think about the obvious idea (that astoundingly obvious idea) that everything that exists (nation, thought, music) can also not exist.
I am less of myself and more of the sun; The beat of life is wearing me To an incomplete oblivion,
On his thirteenth birthday he had seen a film in which the central character was a painter who, unable to sell his work, grew cold and hungry as he went from one unsuccessful interview to the next; eventually he had become a vagrant, sleeping in the streets of the city where once he had walked in hope. Hawksmoor left the cinema in a mood of profound, terrified apprehension and, from that time, he was filled with a sense of time passing and with the fear that he might be left discarded on its banks. The fear had not left him, although now he could no longer remember from where it came: he looked back on his earlier life without curiosity, since it seemed to lack intrinsic interest, and when he looked forward he saw the same steady attainment of goals without any joy in their attainment. For him, the state of happiness was simply the state of not suffering and, if he cared for anything, it was for oblivion.