It is interesting to note how many of the great scientific discoveries begin as myths.
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
All that remains is a fate whose outcome alone is fatal. Outside of that single fatality of death, everything, joy or happiness, is liberty. A world remains of which man is the sole master. What bound him was the illusion of another world.
Live as long as you please, you will strike nothing off the time you will have to spend dead.
The refusal to belong to any school of thought, the repudiation of the adequacy of any body of beliefs whatever, and especially of systems, and a marked dissatisfaction with traditional philosophy as superficial, academic, and remote from life-that is the heart of existentialism.
So when you're dealing with an existential threat like death or like climate change, if you see it as 'we are all toast anyway,' then denial is a pretty good way of coping.
No one can advise and help you, no one. There is only one way: go within.
What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come
if we possess a why of life we can put up with almost any how.
Seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable.
It wasn't the New World that mattered... Columbus died almost without seeing it; and not really knowing what he had discovered. It's life that matters, nothing but life - the process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all.
Why does man create? Is it man's purpose on earth to express himself, to bring form to thought, and to discover meaning in experience? Or is it just something to do when he's bored?
He was free, free in every way, free to behave like a fool or a machine, free to accept, free to refuse, free to equivocate; to marry, to give up the game, to drag this death weight about with him for years to come. He could do what he liked, no one had the right to advise him, there would be for him no Good or Evil unless he thought them into being.
Artistic symbols and myths speak out of the primordial, preconscious realm of the mind which is powerful and chaotic. Both symbol and myth are ways of bringing order and form into this chaos.
I can't go on. I'll go on.
Life ceases to be so oppressive: we are free to give our own lives meaning and purpose, free to redeem our suffering by making something of it.
It's a waste to chase the pipe dream of a magical tiny theory that allows us to make quick and detailed calculations about the future. We can't predict and we can't control. To accept this can be a source of liberation and inner peace. We're part of the unfolding world, surfing the chaotic waves.
Il n'y a de réalité que dans l'action. (There is no reality except in action.)
The Theatre of the Absurd is a theatrical embodiment and manifestation of existentialism. It is part reality and part nightmare
The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be. At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men.
The world is, of course, nothing but our conception of it.
It is the heart which perceives God and not the reason. That is what faith is: God perceived by the heart, not by the reason.
When we are dealing with human beings, no truth has reality by itself; it is always dependent upon the reality of the immediate relationship.
You are also the physician who must watch over yourself. But in the course of every illness there are many days in which the physician can do nothing but wait.
One must have at least a readiness to love the other person, broadly speaking, if one is to be able to understand him.
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