Quotes About Consciousness

Live as if you were living for the second time and had acted as wrongly the first time as you are about to act now. In

La conciencia del amor propio está tan profundamente arraigada en las cosas más elevadas y más espirituales, que no puede arrancarse ni viviendo en un campo de concentración. ¿Pero cuántos hombres libres, por no hablar de los prisioneros, la poseen?

Some people say that a man dying in a sudden accident sees his whole life flash by, like a fantastically fast movie. To stay with this concept, one might say that in death, man has become the movie himself. He now 'is' his life as he lived it, he is his own life history as it happened to him, as good as he has created it. Thus, he is his own heaven and his own hell.

Men, in general, misunderstand the meaning of death. When the alarm clock goes off in the morning and frightens us from our dreams, we regard this awakening as a terrifying intrusion upon our dream world and do not realize that the alarm arouses us to our real existence, our day world. Do we mortals not act similarly, being frightened when death comes? Do we not also misunderstand that death awakens us to the true reality of ourselves?

H]uman freedom implies man's capacity to detach himself from himself.

Between the stimulus and the response there is a space, and in that space is your power and your freedom.

Live as if you were living already for the second time and as if you had acted the first time wrongly as you are about to act now

Vivez chaque moment de votre vie comme si vous viviez pour la deuxième fois.

Modern man needs to be considered as more than a psycho-physical reality. His spiritual existence cannot be neglected. He is not a mere organism. He is a person.

el sufrimiento humano actúa como un gas en una cámara vacía; el gas se expande por completo y regularmente por todo el interior, con independencia de la capacidad del recipiente. Análogamente, cualquier sufrimiento, fuerte o débil, ocupa la conciencia y el alma entera del hombre. De donde se deduce que el «tamaño» del sufrimiento humano es absolutamente relativo. Y a la inversa, la cosa más menuda puede generar las mayores alegrías.

Between stimulus and response, there is space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.

What matters is not the features of our character or the drives and instincts per se, but rather the stand we take toward them. And the capacity to take such a stand is what makes us human beings.

Suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore, the size of human suffering is absolutely relative.

This uniqueness and singleness which distinguishes each individual and gives a meaning to his existence has a bearing on creative work as much as it does on human love… A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how.

The ultimate meaning necessarily exceeds and surpasses the finite intellectual capacities of man.

Zwischen Reiz und Reaktion liegt ein Raum. In diesem Raum liegt unsere Macht zur Wahl unserer Reaktionen. In unserer Reaktion liegen unsere Entwicklung und unsere Freiheit.

Imagine a tiny ant on the back of a massive African elephant. No matter how diligently that ant marches east, if the elephant he sits upon travels in the opposite direction, the ant will end up farther west than his starting point. Similarly, we will find ourselves receding from our goals if our conscious and subconscious minds are not aligned.

often she had seemed to herself to be moving among those vanished figures of old books and pictures, an invisible ghost among the living, better acquainted with them than with her own friends. she very nearly lost consciousness that she was a separate being, with a future of her own.

How far do our feelings take their colour from the dive underground? I mean, what is the reality of any feeling?

Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body.

The moment was all; the moment was enough.

All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.

Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semitransparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.

There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperated. Not in dreams; but here and now, in this room, with living people. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.