Best 642 quotes in «existentialism quotes» category

provou que (o prazer) é um presente da divindade, 'pois - dizia - o homem não pode dar a si próprio nem sensações nem ideias, recebe tudo; a dor e o prazer lhe vêm de fora, como sua existência'.

Pure logic is the impossibility by means of which science is maintained.

Quand l'immanence surplombant sur nous, ciel, gouffre, vie, tombeau, éternité, apparaît patente, c'est alors que nous sentons tout inaccessible, tout défendu, tout muré. Quand l'infini s'ouvre, pas de fermeture plus formidable.

Reality took forever — the underwater way people walked and sent their voices wobbling through the air, how printed words lay inert like bugsplat, all manifesting the basic DUH of the physical plane. By the time he decided to go anywhere he wondered why he wasn't there already. As soon as he sent an email he felt he should already have the reply. And learning any fact, he was annoyed not to have known it already, because whenever anything happened, the conversation around it had already trended and backlashed and been reexamined and swallowed and shat and reswallowed and reshat in a thousand places online, until all thinking felt redundant. We needed brain-to-brain; only then would we catch up to real time. Right now everything progressed so slowly that by the time we arrived at the future it was the present again.

Really, existentialism is a plural term. It just doesn't have an "s" on the end

Regarding our dealings with other people: Expect nothing, receive everything.

Religion was a lie that he had recognized early in life, and he found all religions offensive, considered their superstitious, folderol, meaningless, childish, couldn't stand the complete unadultness, the baby talk and the righteousness and the sheep, the avid believers. No hocus-pocus about death and God or obsolete fantasies of heaven for him. There was only our bodies, born to live and die on terms decided by the bodies that had lived and died before us.

Remember!" she called, as she followed him up the narrow ladders towards the bridge. "It is only a matter of scale and experience. You are not a fraction of the whole. You are a version of the whole! Time will seem to eddy and stall. This is scale. Everything is sentient, but scale alters perception. The time of a tree is not your time." It was as if she shouted to him all she had meant to teach him before this moment. "To the snail the foot which comes from nowhere and crushes him is as natural a disaster as a hurricane; it cannot be appealed to and is impossible to anticipate. The time of a star is not our time. Equity is the natural condition of the multiverse. There are things to fear in the colour fields, but not the fields themselves! Remember, Sam, we are God in miniature!

Remember you are never really alone. Although it may feel like it for very long stretches of time.

Resistance is dauntless audacity of the lesser against the greater through a will to suffering—the essential quality of existing—because suffering most clearly evinces the will-power of the sufferer. History is the story of ‘I’ as observed and evaluated by ‘me.’ When the history is written by my hands, I will fear nothing and live as if I am the history.

Rien, rien n'avait d'importance et je savais bien pourquoi.

saat cinta ataupun kebencia tidak berperan, tindaka perempuan akan biasabiasa saja

Sardines or not sardines, that is the question.

Saving and pinching to get married, you're losing the best time of your life.

Sans doute, rien n’est plus naturel, aujourd’hui, que de voir des gens travailler du matin au soir et choisir ensuite de perdre aux cartes, au café, et en bavardages, le temps qui leur reste pour vivre.

Sartre, expanding on Descartes, wrote that the reason we know others exist is because when they look at us, we feel looked at. He called the entity that was staring back at us the Other.

Sartre turns love into a ‘battle between two hypnotists in a closed room’.

Salvation is no supernatural or extraterrestrial phenomenon, though, throughout history it is seen mostly as something supernatural and mystical. Salvation simply means to be not bounded by the chains of primitiveness. Salvation means to see no human as the "other" person, but simply as a reflection oneself.

Say not: I live today, I shall die tomorrow. Divide not reality between life and death. Say: now I live and die.

Será verdade que sou um salafrário? A poltrona é verde, a corda parece uma alça, isso é indiscutível. Mas em relação às pessoas pode-se sempre discutir, tudo o que fazem pode ser explicado, por cima ou por baixo, como se queira. Recusei porque quero permanecer livre. É o que posso dizer. Mas posso dizer também: tive medo, prefiro minhas cortinas verdes, prefiro tomar ar à tare no meu balcão, e não desejaria que isso mudasse. Agrada-me indignar-me contra o capitalismo, mas não desejo que o suprimam, porque não teria mais motivos de indignação. Agrada-me sentir-me desdenhoso e solitário, agrada-me dizer 'não', sempre 'não', e teria medo que se tentasse construir para valer um mundo vivível porque teria que dizer 'sim' e fazer como os outros.Por cima ou por baixo: quem julgaria?

Semua perempuan yang baik menemukan bahwa ilmu pengetahuan adalah bertentangan dengan kesopanan mereka. Ia membuat mereka merasa seakanakan ada orang yang ingin melihat dibalik kulit mereka--atau yang lebih parah! Dibalik pakaian dan kosmetik mereka...

sesuai dengan diri kita, kita semua purapura lebih sederhana dari yang sebenarnya: inilah cara dimana kita dapat bersantai dari orang lain

seseorang yag merasa dirinya ditakdirkan untuk megamati dan bukan meyakini akan menemukan bahwa semua penganut terlalu cerewet dan suka mendesak: dia akan menolak mereka

She must have been pretty once. At least, like everyone, she had been young. Now her eyes, her mouth, her whole body exuded weakness. Could it be that she was ill and waiting for her next attack? Some people who know that at a particular hour they are going to start suffering again have that expression, subdued and yet tense, like drug addicts waiting for the hour of their dose.

She is the light, at the end of this endless tunnel.

She was like a landscape you see from the train, and you want to stop just there.

She wasn’t broken. She was made up of a thousand tiny little cracks. She was always trying to keep herself glued together. But it was hard, she felt too much. No matter what she did, her emotions seeped through, sometimes in drips, other times in floods, She felt everything, the heaviness of the clouds right before rain, the rush of the subway cars as they left the station, the feeling of goodbye as she watched someone walk away, wondering if it was the last time she would see them, the feeling of a kiss lingering on her cheek for hours. She felt the loneliness of the sun as it hung in the sky, shedding light on the day, without companion. And she longed to give as much as the sun. If she could brighten someone’s day, bestow warmth were there was cold, make someone smile, give someone hope, then for a minute, an hour, maybe even a day, the cracks would fill with love and the pain would become only a voice, reminding her that her pain was important. She knew how fragile life was, how hard, and how precious. She wanted to feel it all.

She wants to have her notebooks so that the flimsy framework of events, as she has constructed them in her school notebook, will be provided with walls and become a house she can live in. Because if the tottering structure of her memories collapses like a clumsily pitched tent, all that Tamina will be left with is the present, that invisible point, that nothingness moving slowly toward death.

Şimdi'nin gerçek özü kendini açığa vuruyordu. Şimdi var olandı, şimdi olmayan hiçbir şey varoluşmuyordu. Geçmiş var olan bir şey değildi. Hem de hiç değildi. Ne eşyada hatta ne de düşüncemde varoluşuyordu. Kendi geçmişimin benden kaçmış olduğunu çoktan beri anlamıştım... İşi biten her olay, kendi kendine bir kutunun içine usulca giriyor ve fahri olay niteliğini alıyordu. Hiçliği düşünmek bu kadar zordu işte. Ama şimdi anladım, eşyanın, görünüşünü aşan bir varlığı yok. Onların ardında... hiçbir şey yok.

Sleepless nights Spent looking at the ceiling Searching in those etched patterns For some sort of adhesive To glue together the broken pieces Of a soul crushed By the weight of the fact that Life is profoundly sad.

Slobodan sam: više mi ne ostaje nijedan razlog da živim; svi oni, koje sam prokušao, propali su, a ja ne mogu više zamisliti neke nove. Još sam dosta mlad, imam još dostatno sila da ponovo počnem. Ali što treba ponovo početi?

Sky is not a limit for me; because I have no limit for myself in life. Because life is a world full of risk taking and possibilities. No matter how hard or easy life is; I will always find a way to enjoy myself; even in the mist of circumstances; because problems is a sense of adventure in sheep's clothing.

So I stayed with the old priest who was my teacher, but lots of unanswered questions always came up. Then I thought, “Why don’t you teach me anything?” But my teacher didn’t care. He just lived. He just let me be alive every day.

Somebody told me that none of us get to decide where we come from. We only get to decide where we're going.

Solitude removes us from the mindless humdrum of everyday life into a higher consciousness which reconnects us with ourselves and our deepest humanity, and also with the natural world, which quickens into our muse and companion. By setting aside dependent emotions and constraining compromises, we free ourselves up for problem solving, creativity, and spirituality. If we can embrace it, this opportunity to adjust and refine our perspectives creates the strength and security for still greater solitude and, in time, the substance and meaning that guards against loneliness.

Solitude, the joy of being alone, stems from, as well as promotes, a state of maturity and inner richness.

So maybe it’s not sad that Gran lives alone. Maybe it’s a choice. “But what if it never rains again here?” I ask her. She makes a quick face—like a face she might make if I were blowing that whistle right in her ear. Then she says, “I guess I’ll have to take that question one day at a time.

Some of the greatest tastes in life are acquired (i.e., the taste for classical music, learning, exercise, solitude). A man should set himself out to acquire good taste. Above all, he should first set out to determine just what good taste is. What in the limited time of this limitation in its totality, that I call life, what will be most beneficent to me as Dasein?

Someone's got to do some more research, but I would really like to know: when a CBT therapist really gets distressed, who does he go see?

Sometimes it’s like that in life too. We look into a past that no longer exists, looking as if it’s real. We hold onto things in our life that there’s no reason to hold onto anymore because, unlike the stars, they don’t bring us beauty, they bring us pain.

Sometimes at midnight, in the great silence of the sleep-bound town, the doctor turned on his radio before going to bed for the few hours’ sleep he allowed himself. And from the ends of the earth, across the thousands of miles of land and sea, kindly, well-meaning speakers tried to voice their fellow-feeling, and indeed did so, but at the same time proved the utter incapacity of every man truly to share in suffering that he cannot see.

Sometimes I couldn't figure it out, what all the living was for.

Sometimes I wish I had not woken up from a beautiful dream, and continued dreaming within sleep upon sleep until I become a dream itself. Because sometimes waking up is more frightening than a nightmare.

Somos una errata que ha pasado inadvertida y que hace confuso un texto por lo demás muy claro; el trastocamiento de las líneas de un texto que nos hace cobrar vida de esta manera prodigiosa; o un texto que por estar reflejado en un espejo cobra un sentido totalmente diferente del que en realidad tiene.

So we must run back and forth between these two suns in our firmament—the presentiment of death and awareness of life—and avoid being transfixed by either of them. If we are lucky in this uncertain middle distance, we may form attachments and projects that enhance the sentiment of life. However, even as we try our luck, death comes to us, and brings our experiment to a end.

Still, somewhere in the depths of ourselves we all harbor an ashamed, unsatisfied melancholy that quietly awaits a funeral.

Subconsciously, we all want to be nebula... In the end, we’re all connected. We’re all going to become one cloud of light whether you like it or not. We’re all made of the same star dust.

Supposing there is no life everlasting. Think what it means if death is really the end of all things. They've given up all for nothing. They've been cheated. They're dupes." Waddington reflected for a little while. "I wonder if it matters what they have aimed at is illusion. Their lives are in themselves beautiful. I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books the write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.

Suffering makes valid the act of significance in the moment, in the moment we suffer, suffering has total significance. We feel in the act of suffering as if our suffering will never end, as if we had spent an entire life suffering, but all this gives way to a moment in which we do not suffer. Given enough time our suffering becomes insignificant. A person would do well to keep this in mind. They would do even better to take measures to reduce the factors that cause suffering in their lives.

Sure, people can make you happy, but no one can stop you from being happy.