Quotes About Contemplation

Now and again I go out at night and watch for meteors. The stars are a free show; it don't cost anything to use your eyes.

Don't think that I did nothing else. It's only that when you look back over a long period of time, certain things seem to swell up till they overshadow everything else.

For whom, it suddenly occured to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn.

THERE'S A KIND OF PEACEFULNESS IN THE NAMES OF ENGLISH COARSE FISH. ROACH, RUDD, DACE, BLEAK, BARBEL, BREAM, GUDGEON, PIKE, CHUB, CARP, TENCH. THEY'RE SOLID KIND OF NAMES. THE PEOPLE WHO MADE THEM UP HADN'T HEARD OF MACHINE-GUNS, THEY DIDN'T LIVE IN TERROR OF THE SACK OR SPENDING THEIR TIME EATING ASPIRINS, GOING TO THE PICTURES, AND WONDERING HOW TO KEEP OUT OF THE CONCENTRATION CAMP.

He thought of nothing he could say.

should give thought to those future days.

The contemplation of Mont Blanc's unchanging summits for three or four days last month, the sight of that eternal snow, immaculate, sublime in its whiteness and calm, was enough to restore to my soul a serenity it had not known for a long time.

La nature est une oeuvre d'art, mais Dieu est le seul artiste qui existe, et l'homme n'est qu'un arrangeur de mauvais goût. La nature est belle, le sentiment s'exhale de tous ses pores; l'amour, la jeunesse, la beauté y sont impérissables. Mais l'homme n'a pour les sentir et les exprimer que des moyens absurdes et des facultés misérables. Il vaudrait mieux qu'il ne s'en mêlat pas, qu'il fût muet et se renfermât dans la contemplation.

To feel beauty is a better thing than to understand how we come to feel it. To have imagination and taste, to love the best, to be carried by the contemplation of nature to a vivid faith in the ideal, all this is more, a great deal more, than any science can hope to be.

I took me to the Banks of the River, and tarried there awhile, as the lowering Sun made one with the Water, giving generously of Itself & its Diverse Colors, in a Splay of Magnificence that preceded a most wonderful Silence.

since he'd never even heard that described as being possible. And from that day on, whenever he found himself wondering

A parade passes. He can't rise and join. Am I to run after it, take my place, lift knees high, wave a flag, blow a horn? Was he dear or not? Then let me be happy no more.

the place on G. eddie baron

Every day the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more, that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be welcome.

Ne kimseyi görme, ne konuÅŸma, düÅŸünme, d??ar? ç?kma, yerinden k?m?ldama isteÄŸi duyuyorsun.

Önceden düÅŸünülmüÅŸ bir hareket deÄŸil bu, bir hareket de deÄŸil zaten, bir hareket yokluÄŸu, yapmad???n bir hareket,yapmaktan kaç?nd???n hareketler.

You are alone. You learn how to walk like a man alone. To stroll, to dawdle. To see without looking, to look without seeing. You learn the art of transparency, immobility, inexistence.You learn how to be a shadow and how to look at men as if they were stones.

Describe your street. Describe another street. Compare. Make an inventory of your pockets, of your bag. Ask yourself about the provenance, the use, what will become of each of the objects you take out. Question your tea spoons. What is there under your wallpaper? How many movements does it take to dial a phone number? Why? Why don't you find cigarettes in grocery stores? Why not?

Tu as tout à apprendre, tout ce qui ne s'apprendre pas : la solitude, l'indifférence, la patience, le silence.

Is it not strange how quickly one can become detached from everything? How empty life appears when one is close to death!

Perhaps, when it came down to it, that gaze attracted her? Wasn't this big, placid man, smoking his pipe and staring into space, more of a friend than an enemy?

He now understood deathbed dramas. Everybody thinks about death. But only one person thinks about it for himself. The others know that in the morning the sun will come through the blinds and their coffee will be served. From The Reckoning

It was only now, at this precise moment, that Maigret became fully aware of the situation. He literally saw himself, sitting comfortably in his armchair, his legs stretched towards the fire, warming his glass of armagnac in the hollow of his hand. He realized that it wasn't he who was talking, asking questions, but this short, thin, calm man, the same man who, only a few minutes earlier, had been dragging a dead body to the sea.

Sir Tristram was contemplating with grim misgiving the prospect of encountering vivacity at the breakfast-table for the rest of his life...