I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.
JEAN-PAUL SARTREThat God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.
More Jean-Paul Sartre Quotes
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Only the guy who isn’t rowing has time to rock the boat.
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I wanted the moments of my life to follow and order themselves like those of a life remembered. You might as well try and catch time by the tail.
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Like all dreamers I confuse disenchantment with truth.
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There is only one day left, always starting over: It is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.
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It is therefore senseless to think of complaining since nothing foreign has decided what we feel, what we live, or what we are.
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It is disgusting – Why must we have bodies?
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I’d come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.
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My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I’m going to sleep.
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Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that’s all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.
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We are our choices.
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It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.
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You must be like me; you must suffer in rhythm.
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The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.
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Nothingness lies coiled in the heart of being – like a worm.
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It was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.
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He is always becoming, and if it were not for the contingency of death, he would never end.
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I never could bear the idea of anyone’s expecting something from me. It always made me want to do the opposite.
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She believed in nothing. Only her scepticism kept her from being an atheist.
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There is a universe behind and before him. And the day is approaching when closing the last book on the last shelf on the far left; he will say to himself, “now what?
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Nothingness haunts Being.
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Words are loaded pistols.
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You’re lucky. I’m always conscious of myself —in my mind. Painfully conscious.
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I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in, but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.
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I have no religion, but if I were to choose one, it would be that of Shariati’s.
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One always dies too soon – or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are — your life, and nothing else.
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I suppose it is out of laziness that the world is the same day after day. Today it seemed to want to change. And then anything, anything could happen.
JEAN-PAUL SARTRE