Quotes About Existence

The world in which the kestrel moves, the world that it sees, is, and always will be, entirely beyond us. That there are such worlds all around us is an essential feature of our world.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life?

So every day I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth of the ideas of God, one of which was you.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. --from WHEN DEATH COMES

May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful.

I know I can walk through the world, along the shore or under the trees, with my mind filled with things of little importance, in full self-attendance. A condition I can't really call being alive.

Drive down any road, take a train or an airplane across the world, leave your old life behind, die and be born again~ wherever you arrive they'll be there first, glossy and rowdy and indistinguishable. The deep muscle of the world.

Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life? While the soul, after all, is only a window, and the opening of the window no more difficult than the wakening from a little sleep.

Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?

What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? Would would this would be like without dogs?

That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. "Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?

If there is life after the earth-life, will you come with me? Even then? Since we're bound to be something, why not together.

But mostly I just stand in the dark field, in the middle of the world, breathing

I'll just leave you with this. I don't care how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It's enough to know that for some people, they exist, and that they dance.

Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever?

All eternity is in the moment.

How wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints - all that glorious, temporary stuff.

Owl Poem One has to say this for the rounds of life that keep coming and going; it has worked so far. The rabbit, after all, has never asked if the grass wanted to live. Any more than the owl consults with the rabbit. Acceptance of the world requires that I bow even to you, Master of the night.

There is only one question; how to love this world.

to be absent from the world and alive, again, in another...

And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far, that is better than these light-filled bodies?

The poem was made not just to exist, but to speak—to be company. It was everything that was needed, when everything was needed.

I look upon time as no more than an idea, and I consider eternity as another possibility