All Quotes By Tag: Life

“If one thousand of you participate in the murder of one child, then one thousand of you are a thousand times guilty.”

“A crossroad is a holy place. There, the pilgrim has to make a decision. That is why thegods usually sleep and eat at crossroads. Where roads cross, two great forces are concentrated -thepath that will be chosen, and the path to be ignored. Both are transformed into a single path, but only fora short period of time. The pilgrim may rest, sleep a bit, and even consult with the gods that inhabit thecrossroad. But no one can remain there forever: once his choice is made, he has to move on, withoutthinking about the path he has rejected. Otherwise, the crossroad becomes a curse.”

“See the world for what it is.BEAUTIFUL!”

“No crime is a means to an end. No crime can be rationalized.”

“If one million of you give assent to the one thousand who participate in the murder of a child, then one million of you are a million times guilty.”

“A revelation leaps over the borders of the everyday. A life without revelation is no life at all. What you need to do is move from reason that ‘observes’ to reason that ‘acts’. That’s what critical.”

“It’s the little things that make big things happen.”

“Whenever a soul leaves the body a void is felt across the world..”

“If you don’t look. You can’t see.”

“Inspiration comes from not only within ourselves, but also from watching life around us.”

“Wenn man nachts nicht schläft, werden Träume wahr.”

“He stole glances at the heathen faces of Bodien and Gaylord, the suffering, yet oddly consoled, eyes and mouth of Basellecci, noting the brave enthusiasm of men who had never dreamed of anything very definite, and it occurred to him through the reek of his person that there was only one hope for him, and for all people who had lost, through intelligence, the hope of immortality. “We must love and delight in each other and in ourselves!” he cried.”

“Ah, clever clogs, but it will have happened in one of my alternative lives. You know–the lives hot-shot scientists tell us we are living at the same time as this one we know about. Which being so, how do you know that what happens in one of your alternative lives doesn’t sometimes leak through into your consciousness in this life, and make you sad that you aren’t living that particular alternative life instead of this one? Don’t you sometimes feel depressed for no reason you can think of? I do. And maybe that’s why. We’ve had a leak from an alternative life and want that life now. Like wanting an ice cream when you were little, which you knew was in the freezer, but your mom wouldn’t let you have it.”

“They all know the truth, that there are only three subjects worth talking about. At least here in these parts,” he says, “The weather, which, as they’re farmers, affects everything else. Dying and birthing, of both people and animals. And what we eat – this last item comprising what we ate the day before and what we’re planning to eat tomorrow. And all three of these major subjects encompass, in one way or another, philosophy, psychology, sociology, anthropology, the physical sciences, history, art, literature, and religion. We get around to sparring about all that counts in life but we usually do it while we’re talking about food, it being a subject inseparable from every other subject. It’s the table and the bed that count in life. And everything else we do, we do so we can get back to the table, back to the bed.”

“Fear no more,” said Clarissa. Fear no more the heat o’ the sun; for the shock of Lady Bruton asking Richard to lunch without her made the moment in which she had stood shiver, as a plant on the river-bed feels the shock of a passing oar and shivers: so she rocked: so she shivered.Millicent Bruton, whose lunch parties were said to be extraordinarily amusing, had not asked her. No vulgar jealousy could separate her from Richard. But she feared time itself, and read on Lady Bruton’s face, as if it had been a dial cut in impassive stone, the dwindling of life; how year by year her share was sliced; how little the margin that remained was capable any longer of stretching, of absorbing, as in the youthful years, the colours, salts, tones of existence, so that she filled the room she entered, and felt often as she stood hesitating one moment on the threshold of her drawing-room, an exquisite suspense, such as might stay a diver before plunging while the sea darkens and brightens beneath him, and the waves which threaten to break, but only gently split their surface, roll and conceal and encrust as they just turn over the weeds with pearl.”