the unreachable barrier between I and not-I

To do the useful thing, to say the courageous thing, to contemplate the beautiful thing: that is enough for one man’s life.

—T.S. Eliot (via henretta84)

It’s up to us to hold each others’ dignity
Recognize we’ve chosen the wrong enemy
Hate, ignorance, and inhumanity are what we should be battling
Now’s the time for knowledge
Now’s the time for Truth
Humanity has already suffered so much abuse
We must take responsibility, and do away with apathy
Unlearn society’s teachings
To be blind and selfish
Because what you must learn
Is that the problem
is us

Being As An Ocean, Song Lyrics, "Death’s Great Black Wing Scrapes The Air"

"The children are still starving … ."

(via theperfectsolution144)

Listening is an art not easily come by, but in it there is beauty and great understanding. We listen with the various depths of our being, but our listening is always with a preconeption or from a particular point of view. We do not listen simply; there is always the intervening screen of our own thoughts, conclusions, and prejudices. To listen there must be an inner quietness, a freedom from the strain of acquiring, a relaxed attention. This alert yet passive state is able to hear what is beyond the verbal conclusion. Words confuse; they are only the outward means of communication; but to commune beyond the noise of words, there must be listening in alert passivity. Those who love may listen; but it is extremely rare to find a listener. Most of us are after results, achieving goals; we are forever overcoming and conquering, and so there is no listening. It is only in listening that one hears the song of the words.

—Jiddu Krishnamurti, The Book of Life (via probablysean)

I learn a great deal by merely observing you, letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.

—T.S. Eliot (via liberatingreality)

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language; and next year’s words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.

—T.S. Elliott (via henretta84)

Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.

—Henry David Thoreau  (via sophianism)

(via sophianism)

Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.

—Søren Kierkegaard to Henriette Kierkegaard, 1847 (via kierkegaarddane)

One never reacts more promptly or more blindly than when one should not react at all. A state of affairs is desired in which suffering shall cease; life is actually considered the cause of all ills — unconscious and insensitive states (sleep and syncope) are held in incomparably higher esteem than the conscious states; hence a dullness of the senses. The strength of a character is shown by the ability to delay and postpone reaction, a certain sense of indifference is just as proper to it, as involutariness in recoiling, suddeness and lack of restraint in “action”, is proper to weakness. The will is weak: and the recipe for preventing foolish acts would be: to have a strong will and to do nothing — contradiction. Relieving measures: absolute obedience, mechanical activity, total isolation from people and things that might exact immediate decisions and actions. A sort of self-destruction, the instinct of self-preservation is compromised…The weak person injures himself…That is the decadent type.

—Friedrich Nietzsche, from The Will To Power (via violentwavesofemotion)

What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And people flock around the poet and say: ‘Sing again soon’ - that is, ‘May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful’.

—Søren Kierkegaard. (via honey-nut-queerios)