Quotes About Unity

Young man I think I know you—I think this face is the face of the Christ himself,Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.

A great city is that which has the greatest men and women,If it be a few ragged huts it is still the greatest city in the whole world.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,And what I assume you shall assume,For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.I loafe and invite my soul,I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,This is the common air that bathes the globe.

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.

We were together. I forget the rest.

Peace is always beautiful.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

The splitting of sovereignty into many parts amounts to there being no sovereign.

We can recognize, moreover, that a move beyond our tribalism never happens in the ordinary. It takes a miracle, or a jolt, or a gift, or killing (as in Charleston) to awaken us from our tribal numbness, to see and act afresh.

The least of us is improved by the things done by the best of us, because if we are not able to land at least we are able to follow. (July 20, 1969 CBS Moon Landing Coverage)" ? Walter Cronkite

The least of us is improved by the things done by the best of us, because if we are not able to land at least we are able to follow. (July 20, 1969 CBS Moon Landing Coverage)

Forever in your arms Is where I want to be Holding you close Within the space That once held only me... Forever in your warmth The place for me and you I feel the sun Our life's just begun I know you feel it too

We all think we're different, but when it comes around, we end up needing the same things. Somebody to love us. Somebody to respect us.

He who begets something which is alive must dive down into the primeval depths in which the forces of life dwell. And when he rises to the surface, there is a gleam of madness in his eyes because in those depths lives cheek by jowl with life. The primal mystery is itself mad - the matrix of the duality and the unity of disunity.

Everyone wants a hand in the outcome, a piece of the knowledge.

Let us create a new guild of craftsmen, without the class distinctions which raise an arrogant barrier between craftsman and artist. Let us together desire, conceive, and create the new building of the future, which will embrace architecture and sculpture and painting in one unity and which will rise one day toward heaven from the hands of a million workers like the crystal symbol of a new faith.

velké bratrství mladých lidí bez rozdílu p?vodu, rasy a vyznání.

I think different religions are different doors to the same house. Sometimes I think the house exists, and sometimes I don't. It's the great mystery.

Podemos rezar siempre si convertimos en oración cada acción, cada tarea y cada sufrimiento diarios porque antes se los hemos ofrecido y prometido a Dios. Tenemos que buscar soluciones dentro de la Iglesia, y no fuera de ella. No podemos separar sin más nuestra vida personal de la de Cristo ni del cuerpo del que Él es la cabeza movidos por un sentimiento personal de insatisfacción u ofensa.

Memo to extreme partisans: If you can't bring yourselves to love your enemies, can you at least learn to hate your friends?

Literature had torn Tessa and me apart, or prevented us from merging in the first place. That was its role in the world, I'd started to fear: to conjure up disagreements that didn't matter and inspire people to act on them as though they mattered more than anything. Without literature, humans would all be one. Warfare was simply literature in arms. The pen was the reason man invented the sword.