Quotes About Meditation

The longer one is alone, the easier it is to hear the song of the earth.

If you keep rephrasing the question, it gradually becomes the answer.

Sometimes I sit up late with my thoughts, reluctant to fall asleep and leave my thoughts alone by themselves.

I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself. And I find sufficient purpose for my day.

I cultivate my garden, and my garden cultivates me.

Take no revenge that you have not pondered beneath a starry sky, or on a canyon overlook, or to the lapping of waves and the mewing of a distant gull.

Most often, walking alone with my shadow is how I find my answer, the result of gathering together all agreeable parties.

A wise saying is something you keep picking up off the floor in front of your fridge.

What a blessing it is to be alone with your thoughts when so many are alone with their inability to think.

There is part of us that stands in quiet witness to what we do, taking notes, waiting for a solitary moment to bring up the subject.

Build your film on white, on silence and on stillness.

Bâtis ton film sur du blanc, sur le silence et l'immobilité.

be sure of having used to the full all that is communicated by immobility and silence.

That which others hear or read of, I felt and practised myself; they get their knowledge by books, I mine by melancholizing.

A quiet mind cureth all.

Cogito ergo dim sum. (Therefore I think these are pork buns.)

C'était, pensa-t-elle, comme un doux peigne passant dans son cerveau, redressant les pensées et défaisant les nÅ"uds.

Let us rid death of its strangeness, come to know it, get used to it. Let us have nothing on our minds as often as death. At every moment let us picture it in our imagination in all its aspects. . . . It is uncertain where death awaits us; let us await it everywhere. Premeditation of death is premeditation of freedom. . . . He who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave. Knowing how to die frees us from all subjection and constraint.

He lived alone, in a small house full of books, and did nothing all day except read and think—a most dangerous occupation for a man, which in my experience leads invariably to dyspepsia and melancholy

In the concealed darkness of the bag her fingers began to work her rosary, clumsily at first but with increasing dexterity - Push. Click. Slide. Press -

Sleepless, I stare from the dark hospital room at shadows of a flower and its leaves the nightlight fixes like a blotto on the corridor wall.

On the whole, he seems to have used the notebook, and the quiet hours of recording, as a way of conversing with himself – a means of clarification of his own thoughts.

Remember the flame, lad, and the void." It was an odd thing Tam had taught him. Concentrate on a single flame and feed all your passions into it—fear, hate, anger—until your mind became empty. Become one with the void, Tam said, and you could do anything.

Keep your mind out of the pigsty, man!