meaning-of-life

Don't look for meaning in life. It was meant to be lived not understood

I feel the reason we are all here, our purpose of being, is to help others find their little piece of happiness and heaven right here on earth...

What life means has individual answers for each of us.

A small event as tiny as a drop of a pin can change the direction of your entire life

Then nothing became something, and I was born, and I wrought great havoc in the world in the time allotted to me, and I returned to nothingness

Don__ complain against life, it may hear you and double your suffering

Do you know why we show respect to life when it shows none to us? Family is the answer

When you finally understand the meaning of life, you come to the conclusion it has none after all

We don't know where we come from and where we go, we fill the missing links with whatever our imaginations can provide us

Most of our waking life is make believe. If there was a way to record every dream that crosses our minds, the true nature of humans would be laid bare

Life has no map; it's made of random events, always caused by something beyond your control.

You will never really think hard about your life until your oxygen mask is taken away from you when you are at the bed of the ocean. At that exact moment, your true self will be revealed. You will really know if you are a believer or an atheist, whether you really love life or hate it as you usually say. All your claims will be tested

Sometimes, the simple things are more fun and meaningful than all the banquets in the world ...

Sometimes you have to cross the boundaries of Death in order to discover the meaning of Life.

There are days when everything I see seems to me charged with meaning: messages it would be difficult for me to communicate to others, define, translate into words, but which for this very reason appear to me decisive. They are announcements or presages that concern me and the world at once: for my part, not only the external events of my existence but also what happens inside, in the depths of me; and for the world, not some particular event but the general way of being of all things.

Science may explain how humans came into being, but it has no answer to the slippery question of how humans should live. Only literature makes it possible to pose such questions in the first place. And if there is no answer, only literature can point to the impossibility of ever finding one.

My heart was full and uplifted; it seemed that in my soul the question arose whether such things as Art, literature, science encompassed and completed life or whether there was still something in the distance which encompassed it even more completely and filled it with a far greater happiness.

Human beings have their great chance in the novel.