Quotes About Transcendence

Pese a todo, la vida y la muerte son estados misteriosos, y sabemos poco de los resortes de uno y otro.

For what is the Void but the beginning of Light? What is Light but the end of Fear? And what am I, but Light given from? What am I, but the beginning of Eternity?

Human beings are capable of the kind of love and loyalty that transcends not only the physical debasement but even the spiritual weariness of the years of sorrow.

What we call "I" is just a swinging door which moves when we inhale and when we exhale. It just moves; that is all. When your mind is pure and calm enough to follow this movement, there is nothing: no "I," no world, no mind nor body; just a swinging door.

When you know everything, you are like a dark sky. Sometimes a flashing will come through the dark sky. After it passes, you forget all about it, and there is nothing left but the dark sky. The sky is never surprised when all of a sudden a thunderbolt breaks through. And when the lightning does flash, a wonderful sight may be seen. When we have emptiness we are always prepared for watching the flashing.

There is a certain part of all of us that lives outside of time

He imagined that the people here would never die: they would simply evaporate into the carnal smoke of the music, their loins wrapped around each other, self and sorrow abandoned to the roar of lust.

Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.

Poets, I dare you to choose, for one night, the ambrosia over the ashes.

Ignite the flares, connect the phones, wind all the clocks; the sun goes rusty like a medal in its box - collect it from the loft. Peg out the stars, replace the bulbs of Jupiter and Mars. A man like that takes something with him when he dies, but he has wept the coins that rested on his eyes, eased out the stopper from the mouthpiece of the cave, exhumed his own white body from the grave.

The success of the movement is dependent on the unity of all its followers, a unity that transcends their differences.

I think music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.

Death is the most sophisticated form of beauty, and the most difficult to accept.

She told me that while my father's body might be crushed under tons of black earth, the body is nothing but camouflage. She whispered that every soul is a river trying to find its way back to the sea.

But sometimes, when confronted by something of unfathomable beauty, the bars of the cage around us begin to tremble. So I ran away to protect myself and remained a prisoner.

We can only know one thing about God - that he is what we are not. Our wretchedness alone is an image of this. The more we contemplate it, the more we contemplate him.

All the natural movements of the soul are controlled by laws analogous to those of physical gravity. Grace is the only exception. Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void. The imagination is continually at work filling up all the fissures through which grace might pass.

Everything beautiful has a mark of eternity.

Religion and art [...] are almost the same thing anyway. Just different ways of taking a man out of himself, bringing him to the emotional pitch that we can ecstasy or rapture.

Our search for others might be of success, if we are going to go deep up there with a transparent vehicle and look for an indigo color.

People never die, but we travel from one world to another by leaving our flesh behind.

Sinto que nas minha veias arde um desejo mais ardente do que o de amor: é o Desejo de não me assemelhar aos da minha espécie, mas de excedê-los, o desejo de penetrar no segredo da sua própria existência e de participar dele, o desejo de um conhecimento sobrenatural e de um poder supraterrestre.

There is surely a piece of Divinity within us, something that was before the Elements, and owes no homage unto the Sun.

There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something that was before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun.