Quotes About Transcendence

He felt he had passed beyond the bounds of vengeance, and that he could no longer say, God is for and with me.

But tell me, said Beauchamp, what is life? Is it not a hall in Death's anteroom?

Qu'Est-ce que la mort? Un degré de plus dans le calme et deux peut-être dans le silence.

But tell me," said Beauchamp, "what is life? Is it not a hall in Death's anteroom?

Cuando quiero oír música admirable, vizconde, como ningún mortal la ha oído, duermo.

À voir ce que l'on fut sur terre et ce qu'on laisse Seul le silence est grand; tout le reste est faiblesse.

I didn't want to be prideful anymore. I wanted to be as hard as and brittle as the stones I carted into the woods. Stones that could not feel or cry or see. I wished not to feel anything at all. In no time, what I wished for, I became.

The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.

She, who prided herself on her tough exterior, could always be undone by the beauty of flight.

her soul was in her mouth, ready to escape as a puff of air

Lately, she's been wondering if perhaps when the living become the dead they leave an empty space behind, a hollow that no one else can fill. She was lucky once, for a very brief time. Maybe she should just be grateful for that.

wouldn't it be more likely that time was the element a spirit would be attached to? That would mean a ghost is an entity that can't let go of what was and isn't anymore.

You can be free. Simply put, you have to give up on Earth.

She had a stare that stretched to infinity.

I was a soul back on Earth. AWOL a little while from heaven.

This life soon be over … Heaven last always

The only thing to transcend is the idea that there's something to transcend. Nirvana is samsara. I finally got the memo.

Love that bore me I bear back to my Origin with no loss, I float over the vomiter thrilled with my deathlessness, thrilled with this endlessness I dice and bury, come Poet shut up eat my word, and taste my mouth in your ear.

I'll finish this poem in my next life.

Sheep look up revolving their jaws with empty eyes, pacific gods little gods that look at me curious & keep distant from human fame. Creatures revolving thru births and deaths, unharmed horses in a tiny gigantic vale in Wales. I am Bard to my own nature nameless as the very Vast I look at. Lay down on the warm hillside & groaned release from my body sighed thru my breast a great Ooh!

with your eyes/with your Death full of Flowers.

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations

In the presence of death reason and philosophy are silent

For there be divers sorts of death—some wherein the body remained; and in some it vanished quite away with the spirit.