We are not without empathetic terror when we open Pascal's 'Pensees' and read, 'I am the great silent spaces between worlds.'
God is dead. Marx is dead. And I don't feel so well myself.
I am. I am, I exist, I think, therefore I am; I am because I think, why do I think? I don't want to think any more, I am because I think that I don't want to be, I think that I . . . because . . . ugh!
I believe that we are all, openly or secretly, struggling against one or another kind of nihilism.
Who am I, why am I here? Forget the question, someone give me another beer.
Meaninglessness takes hold because meaninglessness is addictive.
I stopped and I thought, 'What would Jesus do?' So I didn't exist.
Most people are fools, most authority is malignant, God does not exist, and everything is wrong.
Satre found atheism 'cruel', Camus 'dreadful', and Nietzsche 'maddening'. Atheists who consistently try to live without God tend to commit suicide or go insane. Those who are inconsistent live on the ethical or aesthetic shadow of Christian truth while they deny the reality that made the shadow.
PROCTOR, his mind wild, breathless: I say--I say--God is dead!
Existential depression has always annoyed me; it is one of the world's most pointless forms of suffering.
he threw up his hands and wrote the Universe dont exist and died to prove it
And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.
The words of that philosopher who offers no therapy for human suffering are empty and vain.
Estragon: Nothing to be done.
I can't help it, the idea of the infinite torments me.
But there is no substance under the things I have gathered together about me. I am hollow, and my structure of pleasures and ambitions has no foundation. I am objectified in them. But they are all destined by their very contingency to be destroyed. And when they are gone there will be nothing left of me but my own nakedness and emptiness and hollowness, to tell me that I am a mistake.
Knowing one was comprised of recycled matter only and that selfhood was a delusion did not take away the aching of the heart.
The physical world is meaningless tonight And there is no other.
The Universe will now be set right. Made over to fit my unique view of what should be. Let Nihilism reign supreme!
I was very fond of Lagneau’s phrase: “I have no comfort but in my absolute despair.
Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.
A Soviet citizen, an official writer, once said to me: "The day when Communism (that is, well-being for everyone) reigns, man's tragedy will begin: his finitude."
My soul is nothing now but the dream dreamt by matter struggling with itself!
Philosophy: Impersonal anxiety; refuge among anemic ideas.
