Quotes About Serenity

There are moments we return to. We are in theme. We rest there and there is nothing else.

Perhaps she could use the sounds, punctuate them with some of the other birdsong she had taped, but the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that sound was something to leave alone, that it was not the bulldozers nor the olive trees nor the buzzing strobe lights that needed attention, but the quietness itself.

she wanted to find a place within the sounds where nobody could find her.

Al cielo non chiedo altro che una casa piena di libri e un giardino pieno di fiori

If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?

One joy dispels a hundred cares.

Who can (make) the muddy water (clear)? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear.

The wise are free from perplexities; the virtuous from anxiety; and the bold from fear.

Peace out, rainbow trout.

I have no enemies. I dont permit such a thing.

Trousers rolled to the knee but still they got wet. They tied the rope to a cleat at the rear of the boat and rowed back across the lake, jerking the stump slowly behind them. By then it was already evening. Just the slow periodic rack and shuffle of the oarlocks. The lake dark glass and windowlights coming on along the shore. A radio somewhere. Neither of them had spoken a word. This was the perfect day of childhood. This is the day to shape the days upon.

He sat with his back to a rock and felt the warmth of the sun on his face and watched it pool and flare and drain away dragging with it all that pink and rose and crimson sky.

The rain had ripened all the country around and the roadside grass was luminous and green from the run-off and flowers were in bloom across the open country. He slept that night in a field far from any town. He built no fire. He lay listening to the horse crop the grass at his stakerope and he listened to the wind in the emptiness and watched stars trace the arc of the hemisphere and die in the darkness at the edge of the world and as he lay there the agony in his heart was like a stake.

Where he walked the tideline at dusk the last red reaches of the sun flared slowly out along the sky to the west and the tidepools stood like spills of blood.

Some time after midnight on the twenty-first of December it began to snow. By morning in the gray spectral light of a brief and obscure winter sun the fields lay deadwhite and touched with a phosphorous glow as if producing illumination of themselves, and the snow was still wisping down thickly, veiling the trees beyond the creek and the mountain itself, falling softly, and softly, faintly sounding in the immense white silence.

There was nothing to set a man's mind at ease like waking up in the morning and not having to decide who you were.

Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world's more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious.

Wie gross kleine Geraeusche in der Stille werden.

How loud small noises sound in a silence.

Nothing chased nightmares away faster than the rustle of printed paper. But

The stars shone down on her like flowers made of light, and their beauty hurt her weary heart.

And all was well.

Yes I do enjoy walking at night. The world's a lot more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a great deal more mysterious

It was so nice to rest in the moment without pushing it further, to feel its possibilities rather than its limitation.