Who travels far will often see things Far removed from what was believed as Truth.
In fear I hurried this way and that. I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other.
Dreams and restless thoughts came flowing to him from the river, from the twinkling stars at night, from the sun’s melting rays. Dreams and a restlessness of the soul came to him.
Every sin already carries grace within in, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people – eternal life. The Buddha exists in the robber and dice player; the robber exists in the Brahmin.
Knowledge can communicated but not wisdom.
In every truth, the opposite is equally true. A truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided.
Were not the gods forms created like me and you, mortal, transient?
His life oscillates, as everyone’s does, not merely between two poles, such as the body and the spirit, the saint and the sinner, but between thousands and thousands.
They slept profoundly, desperately, greedily, as though for the last time, as though they had been condemned to stay awake forever and had to drink in all the sleep in the world during these last hours.
Every important cultural gesture comes down to a morality, a model for human behavior concentrated into a gesture.
When trying to remember my share in the glow of the eternal present, in the smile of God, I return to my childhood, too, for that is where the most significant discoveries turn up.
Never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner.
All higher humor begins with ceasing to take oneself seriously.
Knowledge can be conveyed, but not wisdom. It can be found, it can be lived, it is possible to be carried by it, miracles can be performed with it, but it cannot be expressed in words and taught.
But it’s a poor fellow who can’t take his pleasure without asking other people’s permission.
Only the ideas that we really live have any value.
Only within yourself exists that other reality for which you long.
Love is like death. It is fulfillment and an evening after which nothing more may follow.
There is a miracle in every new beginning.
When we hate a person, what we hate in his image is something inside ourselves. Whatever isn’t inside us can’t excite us.