meaning-of-life

Everyone now knows how to find the meaning of life within himself.

The history of modern philosophy is the history of losing and regaining the awareness of the fact that there is no third way between the Absolute and the absurd.

...__ll this suffering,_ I said, __nd nothing but greed and violence to build on when the war is over.___ave another soda-mint,_ said Charles.I had one. Then I said, __hy are we here? That__ what I don__ understand. Why be here at all when it all has to be so beastly?___ suppose we just came, like mould on cheese.___hen why do we want to be happy? Mould on cheese doesn__ want to be happy._ ...

Life is meaningless, when we take a life we take nothing of value.

I've had sex with lots of guys, but I think I did it mostly out of fear. I was scared not to have somebody putting his arms around me, so I could never say no. That's all. Nothing good ever came of sex like that. All it does is grind down the meaning of life a piece at a time.

There are many ways to find meaning in life, one of them is the love of art

Do not weep. Being is enough. There, that is all. I am done...

We__e on this planet for too short a time. And at the end of the day, what__ more important? Knowing that a few meaningless figures balanced__r knowing that you were the person you wanted to be?

Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer.

A life of short duration...could be so rich in joy and love that it could contain more meaning than a life lasting eighty years.

All I wanted and all Neal wanted and all anybody wanted was some kind of penetration into the heart of things where, like in a womb, we could curl up and sleep the ecstatic sleep that Burroughs was experiencing with a good big mainline shot of M. and advertising executives in NY were experiencing with twelve Scotch & Sodas in Stouffers before they made the drunkard's train to Westchester---but without hangovers.

I suppose what I really am is restless. I want to go everywhere, see everything, do everything. I want to find something. Yes, that's it, I want to find something.

Such is life, marked by the ticking of the clock and the call of the alarm until the day it all falls into perpetual silence. For most of us, certainly for this boy, life is not composed of great deeds, but of small actions, and that__ okay. It__ the best I can give and I like it this way.

No wonder modern humanity, even as it loudly proclaims its freedom and power to choose, is really an impotent herd drive this way and that, paralyzed by the disconnectedness of it all. It's just one damn thing after another.

Man is born in order to think (there he is, Kirill, finally!). Except that I don't believe that. I've never believed it, and I still don't believe it, and what man is born for -I have no idea. He's born, that's all. Scrapes by as best he can.

Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the very essence of another human being unless he loves him. By his love he is enabled to see the essential traits and features in the beloved person; and even more, he sees that which is potential in him, which is not yet actualized but yet ought to be actualized. Furthermore, by his love, the loving person enables the beloved person to actualize these potentialities. By making him aware of what he can be and of what he should become, he makes these potentialities come true. In logotherapy, love is not interpreted as a mere epiphenomenon of sexual drives and instincts in the sense of a so-called sublimation. Love is as primary a phenomenon as sex. Normally, sex is a vehicle of expression for love. Sex is justified, even sanctified, as soon as, but only as long as, it is a vehicle of love. Thus love is not understood as a mere side-effect of sex; rather, sex is a way of expressing the experience of that ultimate togetherness which is called love.

Life is less about finding and more about seeking.

I have coveted everything and taken pleasure in nothing.