Best 642 quotes in «existentialism quotes» category

Cada nueva posibilidad de la existencia, incluso la menos probable, transforma la existencia entera.

Can it be, I thought, can it actually be? .......could he be all of them: Rine the runner and Rine the gambler and Rine the briber and Rine the lover and Rinehart the Reverend? Could he himself be both rind and heart? .....Rinehart the rounder. It was true as I was true. His world was possibility and he knew it. He was years ahead of me and I was a fool. I must have been crazy and blind. The world in which we lived was without boundaries...All boundaries down, freedom was not only the recognition of necessity, it was the recognition of possibility. And sitting there trembling I caught a brief glimpse of the possibilities posed by Rinehart’s multiple personalities…

Camus and Henry waved to me from that muddy truck. They both wanted me to get over myself. So, this was me, getting over myself. And it was about time.

[...] cette liberté, je l'ai cherchée bien loin ; elle était si proche que je ne pouvais la voir, que je ne peux pas la toucher, elle n'était que moi.

cinta mengungkapkan kualitaskualitas besar dan tersembunyi dari pencintanya--apa yang langka dan merupakan perkecualian dari dirinya: dalam artian bahwa cinta menyembunyikan apa yang biasabiasa saja

CLOV: Do you believe in the life to come? HAMM: Mine was always that.

Concerning the validity of knowledge, we may have to resort to a pragmatic conception in order to retain some sort of significance, in the short span of our lives, of truth or at least invent or refine linguistic expressions. A thing is called true if it works in explaining what is at hand, a given thing’s truthfulness consists in its efficacy at explaining, that is, that is most true which works best at explaining the situation at hand. Let us not forget: [1.2] if we look at things long enough, everything becomes insignificant. This is what our “truth” teaches us, and it is not without value.

Creo que la existencia no debería ser así, no debería ser una búsqueda de un bien personal, sino de un bien social, ya que buscando el bien social, encuentras el propio.

dalam keramahan tidak ada kebencian terhadap manusia--inilah mengapa begitu banyak hal yang menjijikkan

Deeds are divine, not doctrines. Actions are religious, not creeds.

dari sekolah militer kehidupan: apa yang tidak membunuhku membuatku kuat

[...] Dehors. Dehors. Hors du monde, hors du passé, hors de moi-même : la liberté c'est l'éxil et je suis condamné à être libre.

Don’t curse the gods; you will feel shame when you have to call on them for help

Dispassionately, reasonably, he contemplated the failutre that his life must appear to be. He had wanted friendship and the closeness of friendship that might hold him in the race of mankind; he had had two friends, one of whom had died senselessly before he was known, the other of whom had now withdrawn so distantly into the ranks of the living that... He had wanted the singleness and the still connective passion of marriage; he had had that, too, and he had not known what to do with it, and it had died. He had wanted love; and he had had love, and had relinquished it, had let it go into the chaos of potentiality. Katherine, he thought. "Katherine." And he had wanted to be a teacher, and he had become one; yet he knew, he had always known, that for most of his life he had been an indifferent one. He had dreamed of a kind of integrity, of a kind of purity that was entire; he had found compromise and the assaulting diversion of triviality. He had conceived wisdom, and at the end of the long years he had found ignorance. And what else? he thought. What else? What did you expect? he asked himself.

Do I dream you? Or you dream me? Or does someone, something bigger than all' - her hands swept the vast constellations above them - 'this beauteous calamity, dream everything we see and more?

Don't create unbelief or doubt in people's minds. When you do so you ruin their lives and you have nothing to give them in its place. It's ok if people delude themselves; those delusions keep their day running.

Don't build yourself an ivory tower" the moralists say. But I am an ivory tower by the mere fact that I am. On the crude physical level the body is a frame of (ivory) bones on which the muscles are stretched, crowned by an (ivory) bone pill-box turret housing the brain — shielding it from the blows of 'reality' so that it can get on with its absurd work undisturbed. On the non-physical level my I-ness is an ivory tower of orderly individual views and vistas shielding 'me' from being swallowed up in chaos. Dear moralists: don't they see that life is a constant flight up and down the endless steps of the dark ivory tower seeking to escape from the horrid chaos of real freedom?

Düşünmeye başlamak, için için yenmeye başlamaktır. Bu başlangıçlarda toplumun fazla bir etkisi yoktur. Kurt insanın yüreğindedir.

Don't you think our society is designed to kill in that way? Of course, you've surely heard about those tiny fish in the rivers of Brazil which attack the swimmer by the thousands, eat him up in a few moments in quick little mouthfuls and leave only a perfectly clean skeleton behind? So, that's the way they're constituted. 'Do you want a clean life, like everyone else?' Of course the answer is yes. How could you not? 'Fine. We'll clean you up. Here's a job, here's a family, here's some organized leisure.' And the little teeth bite into the flesh, right down to the bone. But i'm being unfair. I shouldn't have said, 'the way they're constituted', because after all, it's our way, too: it's a case of who strips whom.

Do you believe we are masters of ourselves, or merely dance like puppets on strings having the illusion of independence?

Don’t worry if you don’t accomplish everything in this life. Fortunately, death overcomes every thing—even the very thing that tried to kill us.

Each mind conceives god in its own way. There may be as many variation of the god figure as there are people in the world

E adevărat. Acesta e păcatul nostru cel mai mare, că nu putem trăi în prezent. Numai sfinţii trăiesc necontenit în prezent...

Elliott was disarmingly bright, according to everyone who knew him, an avid reader of Dostoevsky, Kafka, Beckett, Stendhal, Freud, the Buddha, all of whom destabilized notions of identity. I think he knew how little we know about who we are. The idea comes through in lyrics. “I don’t know who I am,” he says simply; at times he wishes he were no one. He’s a stickman shooting blanks at emptiness, living with “one dimension dead.” He’s an invisible man with a see-through mind. He’s a junkyard full of false starts. He’s a ghost-writer, feeling hollow.

Empty Spaces I wanted to feel less. To not be burdened by emotion, To not feel sadness, To not know loss. I envied the inanimate, The trees that stand proudly in winter, Not missing their leaves. I wanted to be weightless, To not experience limitation. I didn’t want time to pass, The blur of days, months, years. It moved too quickly, I wanted to grasp on, Hold it. It eluded me, Intangible, Like light. I wanted to preserve life before you were gone. I didn’t want to know grief. But the pain kept me connected. It meant that I loved you, It meant that I would always be a little broken, It meant that our love filled all of the empty spaces. It meant that you would be with me... forever.

Estás solo, y al estar solo, no has de mirar nunca la hora, no has de contar nunca los minutos. No has de abrir de nuevo tu correo febrilmente, no has de seguir decepcionado si sólo encuentras en él un prospecto invitándote a adquirir por la módica suma de setenta y siete francos los tesoros del arte occidental o una vajilla de postre con tus iniciales grabadas. Has de olvidarte de esperar, de emprender, de tener éxito, de perseverar. Te dejas llevar, y eso te resulta casi fácil.

Er bestrich sich Stirn und Brust, unwissend, was er aus seinem Zustande machen sollte, und ein unsägliches Wonnegefühl ergriff ihn, als ein Westwind, vom Meere her, sein wiederkehrendes Leben anwehte, und sein Auge sich nach allen Richtungen über die blühende Gegend von St. Jago hinwandte.

Es wurde ihm entsetzlich einsam, er war allein, ganz allein, er wollte mit sich sprechen, aber er konnte, er wagte kaum zu atmen, das Biegen seines Fußes tönte wie Donner unter ihm, er mußte sich niedersetzen; es faßte ihn eine namenlose Angst in diesem Nichts, er war im Leeren, er riß sich auf und flog den Abhang hinunter. Es war finster geworden, Himmel und Erde verschmolzen in Eins. Es war als ginge ihm was nach, und als müsse ihn was Entsetzliches erreichen, etwas das Menschen nicht ertragen können, als jage der Wahnsinn auf Rossen hinter ihm.

Ethics is the triumph of freedom over facticity.

Even at a time like this, the street is bright enough and filled with people coming and going—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.

Every increase in objectivity takes us further from reality.

Every night was a night of limitless possibility expired, of a life forfeited, of a foreclosed opportunity to expand, explore, risk, hope, and live. These were my thoughts as I tried falling back asleep. Inside my head, where I lived, wars were breaking out, valleys flooding, forests catching fire, oceans breaching the land, and storms dragging it all to the bottom of the sea, with only a few days or weeks remaining before the entire world and everything sweet and surprising we'd done with it went against the vast backdrop of the universe.

[E]very man ought to say to himself, "Am I really the kind of man who has the right to act in such a way that humanity might guide itself by my actions?

Every novel says to the reader: “Things are not as simple as you think.” That is the novel’s eternal truth, but it grows steadily harder to hear amid the din of easy, quick answers that come faster than the question and block it off. In the spirit of our time, it’s either Anna or Karenin who is right, and the ancient wisdom of Cervantes, telling us about the difficulty of knowing and the elusiveness of truth, seems cumbersome and useless.

Everyone knows that border across which he cannot go, even in thought, and it is that, not the former, that people automatically shut out and cannot face. Yet one knows at times (in the middle of the night, perhaps, when one is sleepless, or on encountering some revolting experience) that this horror haunts every form of experience (always and ever), and hastily one readjusts the blinkers that had slipped. Put the beautiful before you and the horror behind you. Yes, but then I shall not dare to turn round. The world is a bad place. Is it? But it seems that this haunting, this self-delusion by wearing blinkers, is not an attribute of the world. The haunting is in consciousness itself, in its very nature. Just as when I set up any object in the sunlight a shadow is cast (because it is the nature of sunlight to cast shadows), so anything that comes into the light of consciousness casts a shadow of the unknown. It is in the unknown that the horror resides in the dark of knowledge where the patterns can no longer be traced, where chaos resides, and whence utterly hostile systems may emerge, devour, and digest us.

Everything happens to every man as if the entire human race were staring at him and measuring itself by what he does. So every man ought to be asking himself, "Am I really a man who is entitled to act in such a way that the entire human race should be measuring itself by my actions?" And if he does not ask himself that, he masks his anguish.

Every year I managed to live on this earth I collect more questions than answers.

Existence is tedious, anyway.

Existence – what’s it good for, if it can’t be forever – and the only way to exist forever is through your actions – your civilized, courageous and conscientious actions.

Existential crisis if comes before the expected age yields fruitful results.

Existentialism is commonly associated with Left-Bank Parisian cafes and the ‘family’ of philosophers Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir who gathered there in the years immediately following the liberation of Paris at the end of World War II. One imagines offbeat, avant-garde intellectuals, attached to their cigarettes, listening to jazz as they hotly debate the implications of their new-found political and artistic liberty. The mood is one of enthusiasm, creativity, anguished self-analysis, and freedom – always freedom. Though this reflects the image projected by the media of the day and doubtless captures the spirit of the time, it glosses over the philosophical significance of existentialist thought, packaging it as a cultural phenomenon of a certain historical period. That is perhaps the price paid by a manner of thinking so bent on doing philosophy concretely rather than in some abstract and timeless manner. The existentialists’ urge for contemporary relevance fired their social and political commitment. But it also linked them with the problems of their day and invited subsequent generations to view them as having the currency of yesterday’s news. Such is the misreading of existentialist thought that I hope to correct in this short volume. If it bears the marks of its post-war appearance, existentialism as a manner of doing philosophy and a way of addressing the issues that matter in people’s lives is at least as old as philosophy itself. It is as current as the human condition which it examines.

Existence is where the soul goes to learn how to interpret itself again.

Existentialism is no mournful delectation but a humanist philosophy of action, effort, combat, and solidarity. Man must create his own essence: it is in throwing himself into the world, suffering there, struggling there, that he gradually defines say what this man is before he dies, or what mankind is before it has disappeared.

Existentialism” is a thinking That no longer wishes to think; this means the destruction Of the true thinking that constitutes man. The existentialist fanatics Dislocate their brains for nothing — it is only a case of Self-delusion and self-promotion. For to think truly means: recollection. Let the fools spin their foolishness. ----- “Daseinsphilosophie” — sie ist ein Denken Des Nichtmehr-Denkenwollens: so Zerstörung Des wahren Denkens, das den Menschen macht. Die Existenz-Fanatiker verrenken Sich das Gehirn für nichts — nur Selbstbetörung Und Selbstbespiegelung kommt in Betracht. Denn wirklich denken heißet: sich besinnen. Und lasst die Narren ihre Torheit spinnen.

Existentialism, in both its Continental and its Anglo-Saxon versions, is an attempt to solve the problem without really facing it: to solve it by attributing to the individual an empty, lonely freedom, a freedom, if he wishes, to 'fly in the face of the facts'. What it pictures is indeed the fearful solitude of the individual marooned upon a tiny island in the middle of a sea of scientific facts, and morality escaping from science only by a wild leap of the will. But our situation is not like this.

Existentialism's first move is to make every man aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his existence rest on him.

existing is value-making

Facing up to non-being enables us to put our life into perspective, see it in its entirety, and thereby lend it a sense of direction and unity. If the ultimate source of anxiety is fear of the future, the future ends in death; and if the ultimate source of anxiety is uncertainty, death is the only certainty. It is only by facing up to death, accepting its inevitability, and integrating it into life that we can escape from the pettiness and paralysis of anxiety, and, in so doing, free ourselves to make the most out of our lives and out of ourselves.

Fate is the cruelest of masters, taking Life when it pleases or at random, handing Rigged decks to whom it pleases, cheating All alike and none the wiser, taking Everything away from those with nothing.

Feet on the ground, eyes to the stars, heart in union with the Superior.