Francis Jeffrey Quotes

It even feels absurd to be writing or singing a song at all - in the context of actual death, being alive feels absurd.

I searched all areas of knowledge, and not only did I fail to find anything, but I was convinced that all those who had explored as I did had also come up with nothing. Not only had they found nothing, but they had clearly acknowledged the same thing that had brought me to despair: the only absolute knowledge attainable by man is that life is meaningless.

The task I've been given seems absurd: To wait here on earth until I no longer exist.

everything is ridiculous if one thinks of death

We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus!

There is not much difference between a mortal man and a dying man. The absurdity of making plans is only slightly more obvious in the second case.

I think life's an irrational obsession.

This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Mortality defines the human condition.

Life is wasted on the living.

We try, we fail, we posture, we aspire, we pontificate - and then we age, shrink, die, and vanish.

Regarding life, the wisest men of all ages have judged alike: it is worthless.

Heaven fashioned us of nothing; and we strive to bring ourselves to nothing.

What's the point of our life? Everything seems absurd until we die, and then it makes sense.

My search not only failed, but I convinced myself that all those who had searched like myself had failed also, and come like me to the despairing conviction that the only absolute knowledge man can possess is this—that life is without a meaning.

The meaningless absurdity of life is the only incontestable knowledge accessible to man.

Everybody's human. You are only on this planet for a little bit of time.

When you understand that you will die to-morrow, if not to-day, and nothing will be left, then everything is so unimportant!... So one goes on living, amusing oneself with hunting, with work - anything so as not think of death

Life is a disease, brother, and death begins already at birth. Every breath, every heartbeat, is a moment of dying - a little shove toward the end.

Truly, life is wasted on the living, Nobody Owens. For one of us is too foolish to live, and it is not I.

We have this wild life experience that is full of fantastic minutiae and banal, huge events at the same time. Yet, all of it shrinks in the shadow of death. It's hard to argue with death as a game-changer.

The days of life are consumed, one by one, without an object beyond the present moment; ever flying from the ennui of that, yet carrying it with us; eternally in pursuit of happiness, which keeps eternally before us. If death or bankruptcy happen to trip us out of the circle, it is matter for the buzz of the evening, and is completely forgotten by the next morning.

We are nothing but a string of gut on a stick of bone riding this piece of astral soot for one piteous splinter of eternity.

What is man but a little soul holding up a corpse?

Life is but a dream, a grotesque and foolish dream.