Quotes About Transcendence

God himself culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages.

So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has done, shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as on a bankside in autumn.

We live a short period of time in this world, but we live it according to the laws of eternal life.

I hear beyond the range of sound, I see beyond the range of sight, New earths, and skies and seas around. —

How godlike, how immortal, is he?

Ich ging in die Wälder, weil ich bewusst leben wollte. Ich wollte das Dasein auskosten. Ich wollte das Mark des Lebens einsaugen! Und alles fortwerfen, das kein Leben barg, um nicht an meinem Todestag Innezuwerden, daß ich nie gelebt hatte.

I cannot come nearer to God and Heaven Than I live to Walden even. I am its stony shore, And the breeze that passes o'er; In the hollow of my hand Are its water and its sand, And its deepest resort Lies high in my thought.

The unconsciousness of man is the consciousness of God.

Y quizá sería bueno que pasáramos más de nuestros días y noches sin que mediara obstáculo alguno entre nosotros y los cuerpos celestes, y que el poeta no hablara tanto bajo techado o que el santo no se acogiera con tanta frecuencia a su protección.

Und wirklich, je mehr er sich zu erniedrigen schien, desto mehr schien er erhöht zu werden.

A mennyekbe sóvárgunk? – hisz a Földnek is szégyenére válunk!

to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to

Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above?—for the nobler plants are valued for the fruit they bear at last in the air and light, far from the ground

A voice said to him—Why do you stay here and live this mean moiling life, when a glorious existence is possible for you? Those same stars twinkle over other fields than these.—But how to come out of this condition and actually migrate thither? All that he could think of was to practise some new austerity, to let his mind descend into his body and redeem it, and treat himself with ever increasing respect.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately... I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow out of life! To put to rout all that was not life... and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

She believed just then that to let him take her in his arms would be the next thing to her dying. This belief, for a moment, was a kind of rapture, in which she felt herself sink and sink.

the world is the mirror of myself dying.

At that moment I rejoiced that I was free of possessions, free of all·ties, free of fear and envy and malice. I could have passed quietly from one dream to another, owning nothing, regretting nothing, wishing nothing. I was never more certain that life and death are one and that neither can be enjoyed or embraced if the other be absent.

If men cease to believe that they will one day become gods then they will surely become worms.

All the men she's been with and now you, just you, and the barges going by, masts and hulls, the whole damned current of life flowing through you, through her, through all the guys behind you and after you, the flowers and the birds and the sun streaming in and the fragrance of it choking you, annihilating you.

Se sou inumano é porque meu mundo transbordou de suas fronteiras humanas, porque ser humano parece uma coisa pobre, triste, miserável, limitada pelos sentidos, restringida pelas moralidades e pelos códigos, definida pelos lugares-comuns e 'ismos'. (Trópico de Câncer)

He chewed my head off about the threadsoul, the causal body, ablation, the Upanishads, Plotinus, Krishnamurti, the karmic vestiture of the soul, the Nirvanic consciousness, all that flapdoodle which blows out of the east like a breath from the plague . . . he had worn himself out, like a coat whose nape is worn off.

A great work of art, if it accomplishes anything, serves to remind us, or let us say to set us dreaming, of all that is fluid and intangible.

Who am I? What am I doing here? I fall between the cold walls of human malevolence, a white figure fluttering, sinking down through the cold lake, a mountain of skulls above me. I settle down to the cold latitudes, the chalk steps washed with indigo. The earth in its dark corridors knows my step, feels a foot abroad, a wing stirring, a gasp and a shudder.