Quotes about Existence

What makes us most human is the possession of a unique and irreproducible story, that we take place over time and leave behind our traces.

On a Wednesday in January, at seven in the morning, it's plain to see that the world was not made for Man, and definitely not for his comfort or pleasure.

Reality has grown old and gone senile; after all, it is definitely subject to the same laws as every living organism—it ages.

But why should we have to be useful and for what reason? Who divided the world into useless and useful, and by what right? Does a thistle have no right to life, or a Mouse that eats the green in a warehouse? What about Bees and Drones, weeds and roses? Whose intellect can have had the audacity to judge who is better, and who worse?

The world itself demands to be narrated, and only then does it truly exist, only then can it flourish fully. But also that by telling the story of the world, we are changing the world. That is why God created the letters of the alphabet, that we might have the opportunity to narrate to him what he created. Reb Mordke always chuckled at this. "God is blind. Did you not know that?" he would say. "He created us that we would be his guides, his five senses.

We believe we are free, and that God will forgive us. Personally I think otherwise. Finally, transformed into tiny quivering photons, each of our deeds will set off into Outer Space, where the planets will keep watching it like a film until the end of the world.

Additional senses will appear: the feeling of lack, the taste of absence, the ability for particular precognition. Knowing what won't happen. Being able to smell what doesn't exist.

My life's harvest is not the building material for anything, neither in my time, now, nor in any other, never.

There is only one thing we cannot have—eternal life, and, by God, whence did that concept come into our heads, that idea of being immortal?

Or to a different law that hasn't been demonstrated and that we haven't even thought of yet that says that you can doubly not exist in the same place?

The same fate awaits me too, and Oddball, and the Deer outside; one day we shall all be nothing more than corpses.

That the world itself demands to be narrated, and only then does it truly exist, only then can it flourish fully.