Quotes About Harmony

Above all a knowing deep in the bone that beauty and loss are one.

Under the hooves of the horses the alabaster sand shaped itself in whorls strangely symmetric like iron fillings in a field and these shapes flared and drew back again, resonating upon that harmonic ground and then turning to swirl away over the playa. As if the very sediment of things contained yet some residue of sentience. As if in the transit of those riders were a thing so profoundly terrible as to register even to the uttermost granulation of reality

But someplace in the scheme of things this world must touch the other.

Music is made out of nothing but some fairly simple rules. Yet it's true that no one made them up. The rules. The notes themselves amount to almost nothing. But why some particular arrangement of these notes should have such a profound effect on our emotions is a mystery beyond even the hope of comprehension. Music

Schopenhauer says somewhere that if the entire universe should vanish the only thing left would be music.

In their recollections dreams and life acquire an oddly merging egality.

Under the hooves of the horses the alabaster sand shaped itself in whorls strangely symmetric like iron filings in a field and these shapes flared and drew back again, resonating upon that harmonic ground and then turning to swirl away over the playa. As if the very sediment of things contained yet some residue of sentience. As if in the transit of those riders were a thing so profoundly terrible as to register even to the uttermost granulation of reality

Deer and hare and dove and groundvole all richly empaneled on the air for her delight, all nations of the possible world ordained by God of which she was one among and not separate from.

Anytime two human beings find genuine pleasure, joy, and love, the stars smile and the universe is enriched.

Beauty and fear make uneasy companions

How loud small noises sound in a silence.

A thousand enemies outside the house/ are better than one within (Arab Proverb)

And all was well.

Oh, that's not easy,' he mumbled. Two souls in one heart. I hope the human in you won't prove to be stronger in the end. They find it so much harder to make peace with the world.

We roared. We were one big animal throat, roaring.

But beautiful was not the opposite of terrible. The two could easily coexist.

The Supper is still singing.

You think civilization is some horrible, polluting human invention that separates us from the state of nature. But civilization doesn't separate us from nature. Civilization protects us from nature.

When the field of vision has been unified, the inner being comes to rest, and that inner peaceableness flows into the outer world is harmony and compassion.

Somehow when the heart becomes single, the rest will follow.

And so I was. I can put on the cloak of the world I find myself in, however I happen to find myself in it. I can sing any man's tune, and you'd believe me. That's my gift." Birle knew this wasn't a gift he honored.

Not that I want to be a god or a hero. Just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone.

Brute force crushes many plants. Yet the plants rise again. The Pyramids will not last a moment compared with the daisy. And before Buddha or Jesus spoke the nightingale sang, and long after the words of Jesus and Buddha are gone into oblivion the nightingale still will sing. Because it is neither preaching nor teaching nor commanding nor urging. It is just singing. And in the beginning was not a Word, but a chirrup.

Do you think that creation depends on MAN! It merely doesn't. There are the trees and the grass and birds. I much prefer to think of the lark rising up in the morning upon a human-less world. Man is a mistake, he must go. There is the grass, and hares and adders, and the unseen hosts, actual angels that go about freely when a dirty humanity doesn't interrupt them—and good pure-tissued demons: very nice.