Quotes About Contemplation

What's inside, what's the place apart from this one?

it occurred to him that it might be in his best interests to kill Madison before they reached the next town. It was not the first time that he had contemplated murdering her.

A liberating way to view time, I find, is as splodges lying in clusters all around me. Instead of hopping obediently from link to link along a chain toward extinction, I pause in a puddle of it here and wallow in a pool of it there.

There come a day in every man's life when he stops looking forward and starts looking back.

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There comes a day in every man's life when he stops looking forward and starts looking back. —Maxwell Hill FOREWORD My mother called it "God's will.

The twentieth-century theologian Karl Rahner commented that "God" is the last sound we should make before falling silent, and Saint Augustine, long ago, said, "si comprehendis, non est Deus" (if you understand, that isn't God). All of this formal theologizing is but commentary on that elusive and confounding voice from the burning bush: "I am who am.

When people look at my pictures I want them to feel the way they do when they want to read a line of a poem twice.

Music is the cup which holds the wine of silence.

College is a refuge from hasty judgment.

Have I not walked without an upward lookOf caution under stars that very wellMight not have missed me when they shot and fell?It was a risk I had to take—and took.

Any eye is an evil eyeThat looks in on to a mood apart.

Here are your waters and your watering place.Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.

So, when we look upon a flower, a painting, a statue, a star, or a violet, the more we know, the more we have experienced, the more we have thought, the more we remember, the more the statue, the star, the painting, the violet has to tell.

Robin remained quite still in front of her dressing table, staring down at the box containing her wedding shoes, thinking. She saw the risks plainly spread beneath her, like the rocks and raging waters beneath a tightrope walker's feet.

so he sat smoking on the sofa with the lower trouser leg hanging empty towards the floor, lost in thought.

At last they saw what Strike had felt the need to see: a wide expanse of flat ocean, the color of chalcedony, beneath a periwinkle sky.

Her bloodshot eyes squinted at nothing; she seemed momentarily mesmerised, lost in contemplation of sums so vast and dazzling that they were beyond her ken, like an image of infinity. Merely to speak of them was to taste the power of money, to roll dreams of wealth around her mouth.

We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack: Not this, nor that; yet somewhat, certainly. We see the things we do not yearn to see Around us: and what see we glancing back? Christina Rossetti Later Life: A Double Sonnet of Sonnets

Just for a moment, as he pulled himself back inside the Land Rover, Strike wondered where he'd be if he lived to eighty, and who'd be there with him.

Sometimes she sat and let her mind go blank and her eyes go out of focus, so that she watched the slow, jerky movements of the motes that floated across her pupils. They amazed her as a child. Now she saw them as a reflection of how she moved, floating listlessly through the world, occasionally bumping into another body without acknowledgment, and then floating on, free and alone.

Many a serious thinker has been produced in prisons, where we have nothing to do but think.

After Goethe" In all the mountains, Stillness; In the treetops Not a breath of wind. The birds are silent in the woods. Just wait: soon enough You will be quiet too.