Quotes About Meditation

Thoughts are divine.

I [who] am perpetually making notes in the margin of my mind for some final statement...

I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts.

so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again...

She liked getting hold of some book... and keeping it to herself, and gnawing its contents in privacy, and pondering the meaning without sharing her thoughts with any one, or having to decide whether the book was a good one or a bad one.

The lake of my mind, unbroken by oars, heaves placidly and soon sinks into an oily somnolence.' That will be useful.

there was only the sound of the sea.

My head is a hive of words that won't settle.

In illness words seem to possess a mystic quality.

Heaven be praised for solitude!

I can sit alone by an open window for hours if I like, and hear only bird songs, and the rustle of leaves. The trees are pure gold and orange

and to forget one's own sharp absurd little personality, reputation and the rest of it, one should read; see outsiders; think more; write more logically; above all be full of work; and practise anonymity. Silence in company; or the quietest statement, not the showiest; is also medicated as the doctors say. It was an empty party, rather, last night. Very nice here, though.

Some people go to priests; others to poetry...I to my own heart, I to seek among phrases and fragments something unbroken.

distant views seemed to outlast by a million years (Lily thought) the gazer and to be communing already with a sky which beholds an earth entirely at rest.

She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone.

Thinking was torment; why not give up thinking, and drift and dream?

Even the names of the books gave me food for thought.

He would look over the edge of the sofa down into the sea.

Here, she felt, putting the spoon down, was the still space that lies about the heart of things, where one could move or rest...

And that is the time to read poetry . . . when we are almost able to write it.

I am alone, said Orlando, aloud since there was no one to hear.

I can't imagine anything nicer than to sit out in the moonlight and listen to music—

Swelling, perpetually augmented, there is a vast accumulation of unrecorded matter in my head.

To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.