Quotes About Tranquility

and the dark blue over everything

Everyone grew silent. It was sunset now, with orange fire burning in the western sky, and shadows falling across all of us.

Der Abend ist mein Buch Der Abend ist mein Buch. Ihm prangen die Deckel purpurn in Damast; ich löse seine goldnen Spangen mit kühlen Händen, ohne Hast. Und lese seine erste Seite, beglückt durch den vertrauten Ton, - und lese leiser seine zweite, und seine dritte träum ich schon.

And don't worry about the bits you can't understand. Sit back and allow the words to wash around you, like music.

It was pleasant to take a hot drink up to her room and have it beside her as she sat in her silent room reading in the empty house in the afternoons. The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives.

lalalalalalallalalallalalalal have nothing to say

their oars and stared up at the

Nobody gets a nervous breakdown or a heart attack from selling kerosene to gentle country folk from the back of a tanker in Somerset on a fine summer's day.

Happiness consists in getting enough sleep. Just that, nothing more. All the wealthy, unhappy people you're ever met take sleeping pills; Mobile Infantrymen don't need them. Give a cap trooper a bunk and time to sack out in it and he's as happy as a worm in an apple - asleep.

Opiates and small doses of alcohol seem to trigger neuro-transmitters characteristic of Circuit I breast-fed tranquility. Large doses of alcohol often reverse this and trigger neuro-transmitters characteristic of territorial struggle. Note the anal vocabulary of hostile drunks as their alcoholic intake increases. ~•~

off with Utley." We were all quiet then, Susan and I

Ho sentito un alito di brezza, il primo da quattro mesi che non lasciasse una morsa gelida. Ho annusato la primavera, e la linfa che scorreva. Stavo vivendo uno di quei rari momenti di pace assoluta, in cui il corpo è rilassato, la mente non s'interroga e il mondo è un trionfo. E tutto perché Teheran era lontana.

I enjoyed living here. Nobody gets drunk and nobody gets battered.

Pike closed his eyes, and filled his lungs, then pushed with his diaphragm. He breathed deep again. Pranayamic breathing from the hatha yoga. Pike lost himself in a cool forest glade, dappled by sunlight filtered through lime green leaves. When he breathed, he smelled moss and sumac. His pulse slowed. He grew calm. He centered. Pike

Holman felt the slowness coalesce into a kind of distant calm.

When Pike reached home, he stretched in the parking lot to cool, then peeled off his sweatshirt, deactivated the alarms, and let himself in. His condo was austere and functional with little in the way of decoration. Dining room set off the kitchen; couch, chair, and coffee table in the living room; a flat-screen television for sports and news. A black stone meditation fountain burbled in the corner. Pike found peace in the natural sound, as if he were alone in the forest. Pike

The zen of housecleaning allows one to reach inner peace.

And snow—snow is not my enemy, I tell him. Snow is God's way of telling people to slow down and rest and stay in bed for a day. And besides, snow always solves itself. Mixes with the leaves to form more earth, I tell him. Think compost, says I.

People requested help with the rituals of solitude, such as meditation, prayer, and contemplation.

You see all the other fellows were so active and earnest and all that sort of thing- always rampaging, and skirmishing, and scouring the desert sands, and pacing the margin of the sea, and chasing knights all over the place, and devouring damsels, and going on generally- whereas I liked to get my meals regular and then to prop my back against a bit of rock and snooze a bit, and wake up and think of things going on and how they kept going on just the same, you know!

my wants are few, and at any rate I had peace and quietness and wasn't always being asked to come along and do something. And I've got such an active mind - always occupied, I assure you!

Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of the cart. . . . [The] stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company. . . .

but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.

Once well underground, you know exactly where you are. Nothing can happen to you, and nothing can get at you. You're entirely your own master and you don't have to consult anybody or mind what they say. Things go on all the same overhead, and you let 'em, and don't bother about 'em. When you want to, up you go, and there the things are, waiting for you.