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Existentialism Quotes

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Existentialism Quotes

“I am not a poetry factory, I am humanitarian poetry factory, I'm not what's normally called poetry, I'm a new paradigm of inoculating poetry. I am inoculation against hate, I am inoculation against rigidity. In a world infested with etymologies, I am living testament to impossible inclusivity.”

“As long as I have questions and no answers I’ll keep on writing. How do you start at the beginning, if things happen before they happen? If before the pre-prehistory there were already the apocalyptic monsters? If this story doesn’t exist now, it will. Thinking is an act. Feeling is a fact. Put the two together—I am the one writing what I am writing. God is the world. Truth is always an interior and inexplicable contact. My truest life is unrecognizable, extremely interior and there is not a single word that defines it. My heart has emptied itself of every desire and been reduced to its own final or primary beat.”

“During the long summers in New Hampshire when this book was being written I would often get up early in the morning and go out on my patio where the valley, stretching off to the mountain ranges in the north and east, was silver with predawn mist. The birds, eloquent voices in an otherwise silent world, had already begun their hallelujah chorus to welcome in the new day. The song sparrow sings with an enthusiasm which rocks him almost off his perch atop the apple tree, and the goldfinch chimes in with his obbligato. The thrush in the woods is so full of song he can't contain himself. The woodpecker beats on the hollow beech tree. The loons over on the lake erupt with their plaintive and tormented daemonic laughter, to save the whole thing from being too sweet. Then the sun comes up over the mountain range revealing an incredibly green New Hampshire overflowing through the whole long valley with a richness that is almost too abundant. The trees seem to have grown several inches overnight, and the meadow is bursting with a million brown-eyed Susans. I feel again the everlasting going and coming, the eternal return, the growing and mating and dying and growing again. And I know that human beings are part of this eternal going and returning, part of its sadness as well as its song. But man, the seeker, is called by his consciousness to transcend the eternal return. I am no different from anyone else except in the choice of areas for the quest. My own conviction has always been to seek the inner reality, with the belief that the fruits of future values will be able to grow only after they are sown by the values of our history. In this transitional twentieth century, when the full results of our bankruptcy of inner values is brought home to us, I believe it is especially important that we seek the source of love and will.”

“In such an age of radical transition, the individual is driven back into his own consciousness. When the foundations of love and will have been shaken and all but destroyed, we cannot escape the necessity of pushing below the surface and searching within our own consciousness and within the 'collective unarticulated consciousness' of our society for the sources of love and will. I use the term 'source' as the French speak of the 'source' of a river—the springs from which the water originally comes. If we can find the sources from which love and will spring, we may be able to discover the new forms which these essential experiences need in order to become viable in the new age into which we are moving. In this sense, our quest, like every such exploration, is a moral quest, for we are seeking the bases on which a morality for a new age can be founded. Every sensitive person finds himself in Stephen Dedalus' position: 'I go forth... to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.”

“Available only to souls who once died inside — and came back full of truth. Not meant for those still living for appearances, approval, or illusion. This book is not just meant to be read. It’s meant to be felt.” — Phoenix Moon”

“Our century abounds in intense, lengthy discussions on the question of identity, a name and surname are not enough. The debate reaches such remarkable levels of subtlety that it is sometimes difficult to follow. When we say I, who do we mean? If someone else can say that he is me, where is me, here or there? Each of us is absolutely convinced that we are ourselves, and we rely on that assurance for our stability.”

“More Important Than Truth (The Sonnet) In the beginning even I was, Bedazzled by the concept of truth. It took me some time to, Step across the lure of truth. That is when I realized that, Every brain creates its own truth. So we'd never achieve harmony, With the heartless pursuit of truth. Understanding the definition of truth, May differ from person to person. But the virtues of basic goodness, Need no divisive interpretation. Always place love first, truth second. Humanity first, intelligence second!”

“Every answer to any question generates new questions، And it is a series that no one could find its end point , And questions are the engine of discovery , Which is why I say, to the point of all the answers, we will cease to exist , Absolute knowledge means the disappearance of the reason for existence , Because we can control many of the thoughts and feelings inside us, Except for the instinct to wonder , Our questions haunt us when they make us feel our weaknesses and the limits of our knowledge, but at the same time they always push us to move forward. In order to finally get to a point ، And it is the horizons ، Far horizons are the furthest point a human can reach.”

“Verb Over Noun (The Sonnet) I do the best of my writing, When I don't feel like a writer. I create the best of my philosophy, When I don't feel like a philosopher. I write the best of my poetry, When I don't deem myself a poet. I publish the best of my science, Walking just a pilgrim of knowledge. Labels we hold dear often hold us captive, So do not take the acronym for the act. Designations can't contain the designated, Move past the noun and let the verb enact.”

“I wonder if there has been a book written on toes—the bottom parts of a body are just as important as the top parts. Each chapter would focus on one of the ten toes and each would inspire singular, existential commentary: the potential of our toes as leaders, the solidity of our little instruments, the dangers of relating size and value. It would be called The Toe Manifesto and people would be interested in reading it because, after all, it is the toe that goes forward first and foremost, and the toe that helps to tell us if our bodies are hot or cold—in other words, the toe experiences far more than we give it credit for.”

“and what fantasy can there possibly be in misery? You sense that it will at length grow weary, that it is exhausting itself in constant tension, this inexhaustible fantasy, because after all one matures, outgrows one's former ideals; they are shattered into dust and fragments; and if you have no other life, it behoves you to construct one from those same fragments.”

“Poetry is the mightiest vessel for philosophy, Poetry is the mightiest vessel for science. Though I started out with prose, I went through the poetic morph. Now all my science is poetry, all my poetry is philosophy.”

“Poetry Writes The Poet (The Sonnet) The best poets are the ones, Who don't know how to write poetry. Just like the best scientists are those, Who practice science as everyday curiosity. The more you focus on the definition, The more you lose touch with the essence. That is why I never know what my work is about, To explain love is to lose love's fragrance. Painting of a landscape is not the landscape itself, Depiction must never be confused with the depicted. I don't know how to do small talk, hence the sonnets. Poet doesn't write poetry, poetry writes the poet. The moment I think I am in control, I lose all control. Craving no control, the river just nourishes the soul.”

“It seemed funny that one day I would go to bed in her arms and the next not feel anything, like a switch had gone off. But no, that wasn’t honest either. This had been building for a long time. Our silences were getting longer. Our arguments more frequent. How do you stay with someone when there are no dreams to build? No purpose to accomplish? No meaning? No meaning —that was the monster that drove us away from one another in the end. Always.”

“Y lo que, por el contrario, me sucede a mí en las raras horas de placer, lo que para mí es delicia, suceso, elevación y éxtasis, eso no lo conoce, ni lo ama, ni lo busca el mundo más que si acaso en las novelas; en la vida, lo considera una locura. Y en efecto, si el mundo tiene razón, si esta música de los cafés, estas diversiones en masa, estos hombres americanos contentos con tan poco tienen razón, entonces soy yo el que no la tiene, entonces es verdad que estoy loco, entonces soy efectivamente el lobo estepario que tantas veces me he llamado, la bestia descarriada en un mundo que le es extraño e incomprensible, que ya no encuentra ni su hogar, ni su ambiente, ni su alimento.”

“Youth is not what you think, Youth is not a matter of numericity. Youth is the celebration of life, Youth is the spirit of discovery. Youth is not about age, Youth is but a spirit, The spirit of unsubmission, The spirit of selfless uplift.”

“Can’t you get into your head, my learned friend, that you’ve taken a liking to me and feel that I matter because I’m a kind of mirror for you, because something in me responds to you and understands you? Actually, all human beings ought to be such mirrors for one another, responding and corresponding to each other in this way, but the thing is that cranks like you are oddities. You easily get lead astray, bewitched into thinking that you can no longer see or read anything in the eyes of other people, that there is nothing there that concerns you any more. And when a crank of your sort suddenly discovers a face again that really looks at him, in which he senses something akin to a response and an affinity, it naturally fills him with joy.”