But perhaps there are in us forces other than mind and heart, other even than the senses - mysterious forces which take hold of us in the moments when the others are asleep; and perhaps it was such forces that Melchior had found in the depths of those pale eyes which had looked at him so timidly one evening when he had accosted the girl on the bank of the river, and had sat down beside her in the reeds - without knowing why - and had given her his hand.
انني احترم حق كل انسان في ان يؤمن بما يعتقد انه الصواب، وانتظر أن أعامل بالمثل.
For my own part, I tend to find the doctrinal books often more helpful in devotion than the devotional books, and I rather suspect that the same experience may await others. I believe that many who find that ‘nothing happens’ when they sit down, or kneel down, to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand.
Be like water making its way through cracks Do not be assertive but adjust to the object and you shall find a way around or through it If nothing within you stays rigid outward things will disclose themselves Empty your mind be formless Shapeless like water If you put water into a cup it becomes the cup You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot Now water can flow or it can crash Be water my friend
Free will is the cutting edge of Creation, don’t you see? The word spontaneity derives from the Latin sponte, meaning ‘of one’s free will.’ Spontaneity is the impulse, the purest expression of freedom, and the impulse wants to do whatever it wants to do. But you are afraid of what others think, others who are just as afraid of what you think, and so you pussyfoot along the perimeter of the free-will zone, wilting like a wallflower.
If only you could be yourself." they shouted. So, she did. "You are not like me or anyone I have met!" they screamed. So, she blended. "You are so fake." they laughed. So, the caterpillar retreated to her cocoon to find peace alone. One day, they came to find her gone. She left a message, “God knew I was different and gave me these beautiful wings because he meant for me to fly. You see...I wasn’t meant to be like you. I was meant to be me--better.
When you're calling for God, whom you are calling?When you trying to find the Godwhom you're looking for? When you're thinking about Godwhom you're thinking of?When you're praying for God,for whom are you praying for?You're calling for your true self.You're looking for your true self.You're thinking of your true selfand you're praying to you to reveal your true self.You're the truth, you're the God, you're eternal.
If a serious statement is defined as one that may be made in terms of waking life, poetry will never rise to the level of seriousness. It lies beyond seriousness, on that more primitive and original level where the child, the animal, the savage, and the seer belong, in the region of dream, enchantment, ecstasy, laughter. To understand poetry we must be capable of donning the child's soul like a magic cloak and of forsaking man's wisdom for the child's.
I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back any more /the feeling that I could last for ever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling that lures us on to joys, to perils, to love, to vain effort /to death; the triumphant conviction of strength, the heat of life in the handful of dust, the glow in the heart that with every year grows dim, grows cold, grows small, and expires /and expires, too soon, too soon /before life itself
She wondered when her daughter would realise that for the most part, people weren't that different. Young and old, male or female, pretty much everyone she knew wanted the same things: The wanted to feel peace in their hearts, they wanted a life without turmoil, they wanted to be happy. The difference, she thought, was that most young people seemed to think that those things lay somewhere in the future. While most older people believed that they lay in the past.
When I Was One-And-TwentyWhen I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say,`Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away;Give pearls away and rubies But keep your fancy free.'But I was one-and-twenty No use to talk to me.When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again,`The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain;'Tis paid with sighs a plenty And sold for endless rue.'And I am two-and-twenty And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.
I don’t think it would have all got me quite so down if just once in a while—just once in a while—there was at least some polite little perfunctory implication that knowledge should lead to wisdom, and that if it doesn't, it's just a disgusting waste of time! But there never is! You never even hear any hints dropped on a campus that wisdom is supposed to be the goal of knowledge. You hardly ever even hear the word 'wisdom' mentioned!
Birinden intikam alacak güce ve imkana sahip olduğumuzda, aslında intikam almış kadar oluyorduk ve rahatlıyorduk. Bu rahatlığın büyümesine izin verirsek, intikam almanın stresine hiç katlanmak zorunda kalmıyorduk. Belki de mesele güçteydi. O güce sahip olma amacıyla yaşıyorduk, güce sahip olduğumuzda da tüm hırsımız sönüyordu.
Bazılarımız sadece başlangıçlardan hoşlanır. Hayatlarına giren herkesi de bir şekilde gönderirler o başlangıçtan sonra. Ya da kendileri çıkarlar. Bitirmenin o aziz gözyaşları sana göre değildi hiçbir zaman. Bazen sormak isterdim hayatına giren herkese, birinin hayatındaki keyifli bir başlangıçtan ibaret olmak nasıl bir his?
What happens to people living in a society where everyone in power is lying, stealing, cheating and killing, and in our hearts we all know this, but the consequences of facing all these lies are so monstrous, we keep on hoping that maybe the corporate government administration and media are on the level with us this time.Americans remind me of survivors of domestic abuse.This is always the hope that this is the very, very, very last time one's ribs get re-broken again.
