Browse by: Quotation Source | Entire Living Book | The Seeker | The Sacred
Share in the accounts and discoveries of the many individuals who, just like you, set out to find new, true answers that could stand up to the test of passing time with its ever-changing conditions. Welcome these inward and uplifting thoughts as if they were your own, for in one sense… they are.
All writings, both of secular and of divine wisdom, yield instruction when effort is applied.
Everyone of us has had experiences which we have not been able to explain: A sudden sense of loneliness, or a feeling of wonder or awe in the face of the universal vastness. Or we have had a fleeting visitation of light like an illumination from some other sun, giving us in a quick flash an assurance that we are from another world, that our origins are divine.
To meditate is to transcend time. Time is the distance that thought travels in its achievements. The traveling is always along the old path covered over with a new coating, new sights, but always the same road, leading nowhere — except to pain and sorrow. It is only when the mind transcends time that truth ceases to be an abstraction.
We learn to love the light by seeing clearly what the darkness does to us.
All the particles in the world
Are in love and looking for lovers.
Pieces of straw tremble
In the presence of amber.
No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.
By far the best proof is experience.
Narrowness of mind is the cause of obstinacy — we do not easily believe what is beyond our site.
Who knows the mind has the key to all things else.
The custom of frequent reflection will keep their minds from running adrift, and call their thoughts home from useless, inattentive roving.
To believe that happiness exists in a feverish ambition, rather than in a tender and simple affection, is to believe that the immensity of the sea will more readily quench thirst than the pure, clear water of a humble fountain.
Where there are difficulties to cope with, and unsatisfactory conditions to overcome, there virtue most flourishes and manifests its glory.
Be surprised at nothing. Let peace and stillness flood through you and envelop you completely in its cloak. Put on the whole armour of love — and yet feel, feel very deeply. Let tears flow, washing away impurities until you feel clean within and clean without. Become like an empty vessel ready to be filled with life’s nectar.
Merely, thou art death’s fool,
For him thou labor’st by thy flight to shun,
And yet run’st toward him still.
We receive but what we give.
The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown. No traveller ever reached that blessed abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchantman, seeking goodly pearls: who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.
Human history is the long terrible story of a man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.
A man who desires to excel should work with those things that are in themselves most excellent.
Attention alone — that attention which is so full that the ‘I’ disappears — is required of me. I have to deprive all that I call ‘I’ of the light of my attention and turn it on to that which cannot be conceived.
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
To know goodness is not sufficient to reach blessedness if one does not put goodness into practice with works. Piety towards God is actually the beginning of knowledge.
We must approach this matter in an entirely different manner. It is great and mystical; it is no common thing, nor is it given to every man. Wisdom alone is not enough; a man needs a certain degree of readiness.
I do believe you think what now you speak;
But what we do determine oft we break.
Purpose is but the slave to memory.
No tongue can tell Your secret
For the measure of the word obscures Your nature
But the gift of the ear
Is that it hears
What the tongue cannot tell.
