Quotes About Spirituality

I only know that one day you wake up and realize it doesn't hurt quite so much. Until then you can put yourself in the hands of God- He'll see you through. You can take it from someone who knows, dear. I've found his hands to be an easy place to rest.

His teachings, said his disciple Musaeus, had one simple theme: 'Everything comes into being from the One and is resolved into the One again.

There are Four of Us I have turned aside from everything, from the whole earthly store. The spirit and guardian of this place is an old tree-stump in water. We are brief guests of the earth, as it were, and life is a habit we put on. On paths of air I seem to overhear two friendly voices, talking in turn. Did I say two?...There by the east wall's tangle of raspberry, is a branch of elder, dark and fresh. Why! It's a letter from Marina. November 1962 (in delirium)

I live for two things in life: gossip and metaphysics.

Like thick and tangled hair Of Magdalenes half-crazed.

When God breaks in, the only thing you can do is believe it or not. YOu cannot ask for a receipt of the transaction or a sign for the dubious. God does not offer to cover your backside.

A volte l'uomo è preso da un senso di nausea, fisica o spirituale, che lo priva di ogni volontà e determinazione e lo spinge, fiacco e allo sbando, a desiderare la morte. Allora sprofonda irresistibilmente verso la distruzione, verso un folle tuffo nel caos.

One needs occasionally to stand aside from the hum and rush of human interests and passions to hear the voices of God.

To write incorporeal poems, almost without words. To approximate the impossible, where art disappears and the Word becomes.

Yes, even when I don't believe— there is a place in me inaccessible to unbelief, a patch of wild grace, a stubborn preserve, impenetrable, pain untouched by the sleeping body, music that builds its nest in silence. — Anna Kamienska, "Lack of Faith," Astonishments: Selected Poems of Anna Kamienska . Paraclete Press (MA); First Edition edition July 1, 2007) Originally published 2007.

At this still hour the self-collected soul Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there Of high descent, and more than mortal rank; An embryo God; a spark of fire divine, Which must burn on for ages, when the sun (Fair transitory creature of a day!) Has clos'd his golden eye, and wrapt in shades Forgets his wonted journey thro' the east.

My father was an Episcopalian minister, and I've always been comforted by the power of prayer.

And should you have any doubts or require any advice, do not turn to your wife or any other member of your family, or ask for any help from a spiritual source, but rather come to our headquarters and ask to be directed to room 18. Do you understand what I am saying, Mr. Mettenheimer?

There's a saying, "There are no atheists in foxholes," but it should be amended to add ". . . or in penitentiaries."* If I am ever incarcerated you can bet I'll be signing up for every form of religious education offered. They have the best snacks; they observe holidays and often meet in air-conditioned halls.

Sometimes, when you go on foot there, when you walk in the woods near the old pagan temples, you feel something very strong. It is like the energy you feel in a church, or the energy you feel when a boy and a girl are in love and touch hands for the first time.

Whether it was true or not, it eased his heart to think there was something beyond the physical plane, something that felt benevolent toward humans, because the gods knew there wasn't much on the physical plane that felt benevolent toward them.

We are drawn to the Light... others are drawn to the darkness that lives within the human heart... there will always be such hearts. There will always be that choice. If that wasn't true, then a heart that walks in the Light has made no choice at all.

Gods above and below

After some time I fell into a lingering sickness like a consumption, together with lameness, which correction I saw the Lord sent to humble and try me and do me good: and it was not altogether ineffectual.

"Sister," quoth Flesh, "what liv'st thou on Nothing but Meditation?

The end of Religion is not to teach us how to die, but how to live....

I prayed and fasted. I read the mystics. I studied the martyrs. I began to think I was someone thirsting for God.

Now I think it is true to say of the road, and also of God, that it does not move. At the same time, it is everywhere. It has a language, but not one I know. It has a story, but I am in it. So are you. And to realize this is a moment of some sadness. When we are denied a story, a light goes off. I am asking you to study the dark.

Three days (so I hear) she is without food, keeps her body pure of bread, longs to run herself aground in a sad secret death. Is it a god inside you, girl?