Quotes About Reflection

It's remarkable how we go on year after year, doing the same old things. We get tired and bored, and ask when they'll come for us

The road was frozen. The village lay quiet under the cold sky. Komako hitched up the skirt of her kimono and tucked it into her obi. The moon shone like a blade frozen in blue ice.

Perhaps they don't realize where they were, so they went on living.

His practice was to listen noncommittally with half his mind, while he allowed the other half to lose itself in utterly unrelated , often deeply lonely musings. From the speaker's perspective it was like sticking a lance into something again and again with no result...

The quietest of people have the loudest of minds.

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there;

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.

The things a man has heard and seen are threads of life, and if he pull them carefully from the confused distaff of memory, any who will can weave them into whatever garments of belief please them best.

Only the dead can be forgiven; But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.

Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or woman lost?

A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.

Test every work of intellect or faith, And everything that your own hands have wrought And call those works extravagance of breath That are not suited for such men as come Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.

I call to the mysterious one who yet Shall walk the wet sand by the water's edge, And look most like me, being indeed my double, And prove of all imaginable things The most unlike, being my anti-self, And, standing by these characters, disclose All that I seek; and whisper it as though He were afraid the birds, who cry aloud Their momentary cries before it is dawn, Would carry it away to blasphemous men.

The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.

Our master Caesar is in the tent Where the maps are spread, His eyes fixed upon nothing, A hand under his head. Like a long-legged fly upon the stream His mind moves upon silence.

Yoga answers a lot of physical problems such as back pain, stress issues, and any kind of joint problems or illnesses. Even more important is the spiritual questioning that comes up around our middle years. We wonder what do I want to hand down to my children, and how do I want to spend my days on this earth? I think yoga begins to help us look at what our passions and our dreams are. And it helps give us the courage once we find passion to actually pursue that!

Every intelligent person, whether he's an artist or not - a mathematician, a doctor, a scientist - possesses a poetic way of seeing and describing the world.

As the years go by, my life keeps filling up with names like abandoned cemeteries or like an empty history class or a telephone book in a foreign city. And death is when someone behind you keeps calling and calling and you no longer turn around to see who.

Now all I know how to do is to grow dark in the evening. I'm happy with what I've got. And all I wish to say is my name and address, and perhaps my father's name, like a prisoner of war who, according to the Geneva Convention, is not required to say a single word more.

I tried to go out into my time and to know, but I couldn't get any farther than the body of the woman beside me.

Cuando buscas sabiduría, la primera fase es el silencio, la segunda fase es la escucha, la tercera fase es el recuerdo, la cuarta es la práctica y la quinta la enseñanza".

Todo el mundo piensa en cambiar el mundo, pero nadie piensa en cambiarse a sí mismo. — Leo Tolstoy

Meditating means bringing the mind back to something again and again. Thus, we all meditate, but unless we direct it in some way, we meditate on ourselves and on our own problems, reinforcing our self-clinging.

A poet's autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just a footnote.