Quotes About Reflection

All goes back to the earth, and so I do not desire pride of excess or power, but the contentments made by men who have had little: the fisherman's silence receiving the river's grace, the gardener's musing on rows....

I lack the peace of simple things. I am never wholly in place. I find no peace or grace. We sell the world to buy fire, our way lighted by burning men....

It is a horrible fact that we can read in the daily paper, without interrupting our breakfast, numerical reckonings of death and destruction that ought to break our hearts or scare us out of our wits.

I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods. Better than any argument is to rise at dawn and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.

It may be that when we no longer know which way to go that we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

I don't believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure.

Unfortunately, it is also true that the age's interests often color the past with unhistoric hues.

We must honestly face our relationship with Great Britain.

We've got something about ourselves we wish we could change, and we never knew that none is perfect.

Each night, as I closed my eyes, I would find myself back in the same meadow. The more I played, the more glass fell from my head. I knew that it was trauma being evicted from my body. But I thought to be healed of the trauma I should be quoting the Word incessantly... Not playing... "Rest ... rest and play....

True regret is based on repentance – grieving for the sin, not the consequence of sin.

Then she compared the work we did to the peeling of an onion: "It takes a long time, and we peel the layers slowly, incrementally, transparent layers, around and around, peeling until we get to the core," then she smiled, "and there are always tears." (141)

Sometimes I felt like I was running from somewhere, but other times I felt like I was running to somewhere. (178)

As we ate, I watched the waves crashing and thought about the erosion, the turning of rock into sand, and how long it takes to see any difference in the coastline even though it's constantly being worked on. (167)

Another Christmas Poem Blood Christmas, here again. Let us raise a loving cup: Peace on earth, goodwill to men, And make them do the washing-up.

Maybe they're a blessing—those first few misty moments of morning, when you're allowed to forget what your life is really like today.

All of us identify who we are in contrast with who we are not, and the 'who we are not' changes all the time.

Voltaire was deeply impressed by it and cited it often.

Wendy Lawton

My childhood was kind of a blur, to tell you the truth. I needed better glasses.

We are lucky if our parents are still alive when we get old enough to appreciate them.

In the end these things matter most: How well did you love? How fully did you live? How deeply did you learn to let go? —JACK KORNFIELD, BUDDHIST TEACHER

So softly Lizzy has to lean over to hear me, I say, 'I can't face the world until I know why I'm here.' You're kidding me.' I shake my head vehemently. 'No. I need to figure out my purpose. Until I do, what's the use of getting up?

Some choices are forever....Just because people aren't in our lives anymore, doesn't mean they stop thinking about us and vice versa.