Quotes About Serenity

The snail was on the wing and the lark on the thorn - or, rather, the other way around - and God was in His heaven and all right with the world. And presently the eyes closed, the muscles relaxed, the breathing became soft and regular, and sleep, which does something which has slipped my mind to the something sleeve of care, poured over me in a healing wave.

Then they appeared to ooze off, for all became quiet save for the lapping of the waves on the shore. And, by Jove, so sedulously did these waves lap that gradually a drowsiness crept over me and not ten minutes after I had made up my mind that I should never get to sleep again in this world I was off as comfortably as a babe or suckling.

shaven lawns, and a general atmosphere of what is known as old-world peace. Cows were

perfect peace with loved ones far away

You're sitting in the old arm-chair, thinking of this and that, and then suddenly you look up, and there he is. He moves from point to point with as little uproar as a jelly fish.

In a picturesque little châlet high up in the mountains, covered with snow and edelweiss (which is a flower that grows in the Alps, and you are not allowed to pick it)

Indeed, there is always something very restful about a duck. Whatever earthquakes and upheavals may be afflicting the general public, it stands aloof from them and just goes on being a duck.

There are few things more restful than to watch some one else busy under a warm sun.

Half the trouble in the world was caused by people not letting well alone.

The Problem of Life seemed to him to be solved. He looked on down the years, and he could see no troubles there of any kind whatsoever. Reason suggested that there were probably one or two knocking about somewhere, but this was no time to think of them. He examined the future, and found it good.

Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying, everything is absorbed through weather and the sea, and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered, and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave, and every day on the balcony of the sea, wings open, fire is born, and everything is blue again like morning.

The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything, I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops, and courtyards with washing hanging from the line: underwear, towels and shirts from which slow dirty tears are falling.

La poesía es siempre un acto de paz. El poeta nace de la paz como el pan nace de la harina.

Now I'll count up to twelve and you keep quiet and I will go.

Under your ski the moon is alive.

Tira-me o pão, se quiseres, tira-me o ar, mas não me tires o teu riso.

You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations. Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.

It's September 21st, a day I love for the balance it carries with it.

There was something about the prairie for me—it wasn't where I had come from, but when I moved there it just took me in and I knew I couldn't ever stop living under that big sky.

Dear Reader, that a sense of privacy is the best gift I ever gave myself.

Retire to the center of your being, which is calmness.

Apply the experiences of peace and poise received during concentration and meditation to your daily life. Maintain your equilibrium amidst trying circumstances, and stand unshaken by others' violent emotions or by adverse events. Body

Xochimilco in Mexico, where skies, mountains, and poplars are reflected