It opens the mind toward an understanding of humannature and destiny. It increases wisdom. It is the veryessence of that much misinterpreted concept, a liberaleducation. It is the foremost approach to humanism,the lore of the specifically human concerns that distinguishman from other living beings. . . . Personal cultureis more than mere familiarity with the presentstate of science, technology, and civic affairs. It ismore than acquaintance with books and paintings andthe experience of travel and of visits to museums. It isthe assimilation of the ideas that roused mankind fromthe inert routine of a merely animal existence to a lifeof reasoning and speculating. It is the individual’seffort to humanize himself by partaking in the traditionof all the best that earlier generations havebequeathed.

What I admire about the modern atheist is not at all his logic, but rather his gift of imagination. There will always be the cartoon versions of Christianity further perpetuated by the extremist atheists who do not possess the humility to ask real scholars and theologians its difficult questions. There is little doubt that the atheist has the bigger imagination: the first reason is due to his persistent caricatures of what constitutes a Christian; the second because of his belief that most of his questions are actually rhetorical. From this I can infer that, instead of laughing at one another - the Christian at modern atheist immaturity and the modern atheist at Christian stupidity, we would have a better chance at productivity laughing with one another as we all dumb down what we don't understand.

The best teachers have showed me that things have to be done bit by bit. Nothing that means anything happens quickly--we only think it does. The motion of drawing back a bow and sending an arrow straight into a target takes only a split second, but it is a skill many years in the making. So it is with a life, anyone's life. I may list things that might be described as my accomplishments in these few pages, but they are only shadows of the larger truth, fragments separated from the whole cycle of becoming. And if I can tell an old-time story now about a man who is walking about, waudjoset ndatlokugan, a forest lodge man, alesakamigwi udlagwedewugan, it is because I spent many years walking about myself, listening to voices that came not just from the people but from animals and trees and stones.

-Başka ne öğrendin?-Karşındakini tanımayı arzulamanın gerçekten aptalcaolduğunu öğrendim.-Neden?Değiştiremezsin ki. Onlar ‘var’. Sadece var.Düşünsene, ilkokulda tahtaya yazılan problemlergibi insanlar. Onları anlamaya çalışmak, istenilen veverilenleri yazmak gibi ve… Madem çözemeyeceksin,madem soru hatalı, kitabı kapatıp gitmek dahaiyi. Elinde tebeşirle beklemenin, yazarken ciğerinekaçan tozlarla bünyende terör estirmenin ne gereğivar? Sadece karşındaki insanı yaşa, daha fazlası yok.-Unuttun mu onu?-O sadece bir erkek ve düştüğü yeri yakıyor. Artıkbiliyorum.

Önemli olan şüphe uyandırmaktır aslında. Güçlü olmadığın halde güçlü davranmak, mutlu olmadığın halde mutlu davranmak gibidir. Ya da üzgün olduğun halde gülmek gibi. Karşındaki buradaki garipliği, o yabancı enerjiyi fark eder fakat ne olduğunu da anlayamaz. Anlayamadığı için de kafası karışır. Tamam mı?” “Peki.” “Kafası karışmış bir insan avcı olmaktan çıkar, ava dönüşür. Kafanın karışması sıfır derecedeki su ya da buz gibidir. Kararsız bir formdur ve sadece dokunarak istediğin şekli verebilirsin.

An abolitionist is, as I have developed that notion, one who (1) maintains that we cannot justify animal use, however “humane” it may be; (2) rejects welfare campaigns that seek more “humane” exploitation, or single-issue campaigns that seek to portray one form of animal exploitation as morally worse than other forms of animal exploitation (e.g., a campaign that seeks to distinguish fur from wool or leather); and (3) regards veganism, or the complete rejection of the consumption or use of any animal products, as a moral baseline. An abolitionist regards creative, nonviolent vegan education as the primary form of activism, because she understands that the paradigm will not shift until we address demand and educate people to stop thinking of animals as things we eat, wear, or use as our resources.

...it is never safe to classify the souls of one's neighbors; one is apt, in the long run, to be proved a fool. You should regard each meeting with a friend as a sitting he is unwillingly giving you for a portrait -- a portrait that, probably, when you or he die, will still be unfinished. And, though this is an absorbing pursuit, nevertheless, the painters are apt to end pessimists. For however handsome and merry may be the face, however rich the background, in the first rough sketch of each portrait, yet with every added stroke of the brush, with every tiny readjustment of the 'values,' with every modification of the chiaroscuro, the eyes looking out at you grow more disquieting. And, finally, it is your own face that you are staring at in terror, as in a mirror by candle-light, when all the house is still.

‎They are angry with me, because I know what I am." Said the little eagle. "How do you know that they are angry with you?" "Because, they despise me for wanting to soar, they only want me to peck at the dirt, looking for ants, with them. But I can't do that. I don't have chicken feet, I have eagle wings." "And what is so wrong with having eagle wings and no chicken feet?" Asked the old owl. "I'm not sure, that's what I'm trying to find out." "They hate you because you know that you are an eagle and they want you to think you are a chicken so that you will peck at the ground looking for ants and worms, so that you will never know that you are an eagle and always think yourself a chicken. Let them hate you, they will always be chickens, and you will always be an eagle. You must fly. You must soar." Said the old owl.

I hate wise men because they are lazy, cowardly, and prudent. To the philosophers' equanimity, which makes them indifferent to both pleasure and pain, I prefer devouring passions. The sage knows neither the tragedy of passion, nor the fear of death, nor risk and enthusiasm, nor barbaric, grotesque, or sublime heroism. He talks in proverbs and gives advice. He does not live, feel, desire, wait for anything. He levels down all the incongruities of life and then suffers the consequences. So much more complex is the man who suffers from limitless anxiety. The wise man's life is empty and sterile, for it is free from contradiction and despair. An existence full of irreconcilable contradictions is so much richer and creative. The wise man's resignation springs from inner void, not inner fire. I would rather die of fire than of void.

Giving Birth by Marcus Amaker do you remember when the earth was just a baby, settling in its skin,safe in the arms of mother naturewith fire breathing from within.you were not shackled by timeand life roamed around your heartwith the weight of dinosaurs,leaving footprints in your lungs.and the first time you saw the sunyou could barely breathebecause the possibility of endless lightplanted a seedso you admire the strength of trees,who naturally grew into unwavering beauty, staring down the mouth oftime. do you remember being 11 years oldwhen your mother told you“birth is more painful than dying”and you burst with dreamswithout even trying, seeking light in your heart, where shadows now restcomfortably next to fear.but you come out of the woods clear,with nature’s breathunder your tongue, and a weightless bliss, no longer scared of death.

Love is the divine Mother's arms; when those arms are spread, every soul falls into them.The Sufis of all ages have been known for their beautiful personality. It does not mean that among them there have not been people with great powers, wonderful powers and wisdom. But beyond all that, what is most known of the Sufis is the human side of their nature: that tact which attuned them to wise and foolish, to poor and rich, to strong and weak -- to all. They met everyone on his own plane, they spoke to everyone in his own language. What did Jesus teach when he said to the fishermen, 'Come hither, I will make you fishers of men?' It did not mean, 'I will teach you ways by which you get the best of man.' It only meant: your tact, your sympathy will spread its arms before every soul who comes, as mother's arms are spread out for her little ones.

In meditation we discover our inherent restlessness. Sometimes we get up and leave. Sometimes we sit there but our bodies wiggle and squirm and our minds go far away. This can be so uncomfortable that we feel’s it’s impossible to stay. Yet this feeling can teach us not just about ourselves but what it is to be human…we really don’t want to stay with the nakedness of our present experience. It goes against the grain to stay present. These are the times when only gentleness and a sense of humor can give us the strength to settle down…so whenever we wander off, we gently encourage ourselves to “stay” and settle down. Are we experiencing restlessness? Stay! Are fear and loathing out of control? Stay! Aching knees and throbbing back? Stay! What’s for lunch? Stay! I can’t stand this another minute! Stay!”

Dzieje kultury wykazują, ze głupota jest siostrą bliźniaczą rozumu, ona rośnie najbujniej nie na glebie dziewiczej ignorancji , lecz na gruncie uprawnym siódmym potem doktorów i profesorów. Wielkie absurdy nie są wymyślane przez tych, których rozum krząta się wokół spraw codziennych. Nic dziwnego zatem, że właśnie najintensywniejsi myśliciele bywali producentami największego głupstwa. / The history of culture shows that foolishness is a twin sister of wisdom. It does not flourish on the fields of pure ignorance but on the fields tirelessly plowed by doctors and professors. Great absurdities do not flourish where one is busy with everyday life. No wonder that sometimes most vigorous thinkers come up with utmost stupidities. (Dziennik 1956, XIX, Thursday)

Do you have a leather jacket? One for a ten-year-old boy?" I asked the man selling leather jackets and gloves in Covent Garden, London. "Yes, I have one right here!" And the man dug out a fine leather jacket that looked styled and tailored for a young boy. "I'm buying this for my son" I said to him. "I love this jacket, it's perfect, I think I will just come back for it tomorrow, though! I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" And the man reached his arms above his head, and said with a big smile upon his face "You only have one life to live! What is the difference if you do something today, or if you do it tomorrow?" I thought about the man's words. And I bought the jacket. He was right, there is no difference, really, between doing something today and doing something tomorrow, when you only have one life to live! Afterall, tomorrow may never come! All you really have is today!

Lafı zayıflık demeye getirmeye çalışıyorsun, farkındayım. Ama asıl zayıflık birine ait olmayı istemek, ya da birinin sahibi olmaya çalışmak değil. Asıl zayıflık, kendini bunlardan soyutlamaya çalışarak yaşamak. İnsan dediğin böyle şeylerden uzak kalamaz. Gerçekte, bunlardan uzak kalıp, güçlü hissetmeye çalışmak seni zayıflatır. Ciğer her zaman gözünün önünde, ona ulaşmak istemiyor gibi davranıyorsun. Oysa o ciğeri istediğini biliyoruz. İkisi de zayıflatır seni. Ne farkı var ki? Ha ona ulaşmaya çalışıp heba olmak, ha ulaşmayı istemiyormuşsun gibi görünmeye çalışırken heba olmak.