Ceaselessly Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
i-read-just-endlessly-ceaselessly-almost-every-book-it-seems
to-me-fashion-is-ceaselessly-fascinating-because-it-is-expression-self
one-must-always-maintain-ones-connection-to-past-yet-ceaselessly-pull-away-from-it
the-neurotic-circles-ceaselessly-above-foggedin-airport-mignon-mclaughlin
everything-without-exception-which-is-value-in-me-comes-from-somewhere-other-than-myself-not-as-gift-but-as-loan-which-must-be-ceaselessly-renewed-simone-weil
if-you-were-music-i-would-listen-to-you-ceaselessly-my-low-spirits-would-brighten-up-anna-akhmatova
so-we-beat-on-boats-against-the-current-borne-back-ceaselessly-into-the-past
so-we-beat-on-boats-against-current-borne-back-ceaselessly-into-past-f-scott-fitzgerald
each-instant-was-different-new-unrepeatable-that-was-nature-time-ceaselessly-realizing-itself-in-every-life-cesar-aira
the-subconscious-is-ceaselessly-murmuring-and-it-is-by-listening-to-these-murmurs-that-one-hears-the-truth
i-too-complain-ceaselessly-in-my-heart-in-my-words-too-my-life-is-protest-against-government-for-instance-dorothy-day
success-and-prosperity-are-gods-idea-thats-the-reason-he-ceaselessly-provides-you-with-every-good-blessing-for-your-enjoyment
cursed-is-man-who-ceaselessly-loves-without-fear-he-will-inevitably-fall-in-love-with-devil-victor-l-guerrero
the-law-unintended-consequences-pushes-us-ceaselessly-through-years-permitting-no-pause-for-perspective-richard-schickel
each-day-death-corrodes-what-we-call-living-life-ceaselessly-swallows-our-desire-for-void-jindich-tyrske
while-love-ceaselessly-strives-toward-that-which-lies-at-hiddenmost-center-hatred-only-perceives-topmost-surface-hermann-broch
it-is-the-hour-to-be-drunken-to-escape-being-the-martyred-slaves-of-time-be-ceaselessly-drunk-on-wine-on-poetry-or-on-virtue-as-you-wish
in-end-we-get-older-we-kill-everyone-who-loves-us-through-worries-we-give-them-through-troubled-tenderness-we-inspire-in-them-fears-we-walter-benjamin
to-leaders-cinema-still-to-come-i-can-offer-only-few-words-drawn-from-my-modest-experience-you-must-ceaselessly-formulate-sharpen-your-critical-nagisa-oshima
she-was-her-husbands-partner-in-life-shared-his-commitment-after-his-death-she-ceaselessly-promoted-his-advocacy-nonviolence-protected-his-legacy-julian-bond
today-we-are-all-speeding-under-golden-arms-arches-into-our-city-into-our-lives-into-world-that-is-stream-information-ceaselessly-collected-jeanette-winterson
where-nationally-televised-news-had-been-once-nightly-ritual-it-has-since-grown-into-24-hour-day-habit-available-on-channels-devoted-entirely-ceaselessly-to-its-dissemination
life-appears-in-vast-variety-innumerable-succession-individual-forms-since-most-salient-character-universe-is-just-that-it-ceaselessly-gives-joseph-alexander-leighton
nicole-kidman-in-particular-seems-to-bring-out-buttkisser-in-sassiest-hackettes-as-they-ceaselessly-strive-to-portray-her-as-some-sort-cross-julie-burchill
how-much-do-i-love-thee-go-ask-deep-sea-how-many-rare-gems-in-its-coral-caves-be-or-ask-broad-billows-that-ceaselessly-roar-how-many-bright-sands-do-mary-ashley-townsend
they-were-soul-mates-my-mother-father-they-claimed-to-adore-each-other-as-if-word-adore-meant-argue-with-ceaselessly-merrill-markoe
i-have-not-yet-spoken-my-last-word-about-women-i-believe-that-if-woman-succeeds-in-withdrawing-from-mass-rather-raising-herself-from-above-mass-she-grows-ceaselessly-more-than-ma
vitally-important-for-young-man-woman-is-first-to-realize-value-education-then-to-cultivate-earnestly-aggressively-ceaselessly-habit-b-c-forbes
the-essence-morality-is-questioning-about-morality-decisive-move-human-life-is-to-use-ceaselessly-all-light-to-look-for-origin-opposition-georges-bataille
in-all-its-operations-cinema-ceaselessly-strives-fails-to-make-present-world-hopelessly-beyond-grasp-for-this-reason-cinema-is-in-its-nature-nihilistic-medium-john-marmysz
pressed-against-her-i-can-hear-eternity-hollow-lonely-spaces-currents-that-churn-ceaselessly-fallen-snow-welcomes-falling-snow-with-whispered-hush-craig-thompson
pressed-against-her-i-can-hear-eternity-hollow-lonely-spaces-currents-that-churn-ceaselessly-fallen-snow-welcomes-falling-snow-with-whispered-craig-thompson
with-certainty-one-thing-would-be-unattainable-for-thousand-years-if-i-live-is-ability-to-stop-ceaselessly-falling-deeper-deeper-deeper-in-loving-with-you-over-over-over-again-so
being-messenger-love-is-all-about-caring-for-every-person-in-your-orbit-unconditionally-ceaselessly-the-harder-other-person-makes-it-for-you-more-love-you-need-to-send-their-way-
you-dont-make-art-after-you-become-artist-you-become-artist-by-ceaselessly-making-art-seth-godin
one-who-prays-ceaselessly-is-one-who-combines-prayer-with-work-work-with-prayer-origen
one-must-always-maintain-ones-connection-to-past-yet-ceaselessly-pull-away-from-it-to-remain-in-touch-with-past-requires-love-memory-to-remain-in-touch-with-past-requires-constan
woman-is-opposite-other-man-she-is-nonman-defective-man-assigned-chiefly-negative-value-in-relation-to-male-first-principle-but-equally-man-is-what-he-is-only-by-virtue-ceaseless
this-is-life-learning-to-love-through-loss-seeking-warm-pockets-in-bitter-cold-finding-worth-smile-on-cloudy-day-carrying-weight-world-on-weary-shouldersmistakes-sins-injusticesa
What is personal death? Asking this question and pausing to look inward - isn't personal death a concept? Isn't there a thought-and-picture series going on in the brain? These scenes of personal ending take place solely in the imagination, and yet they trigger great mental ad physical distress - thinking of one's cherished attachments an their sudden, irreversible termination. Similarly, if there is 'pain when I let some of the beauty of life in' - isn't this pain the result of thinking, 'I won't be here any longer to enjoy this beauty?' Or, 'No one will be around and no beauty left to be enjoyed if there is total nuclear devastation.' Apart from the horrendous tragedy of human warfare - why is there this fear of 'me' not continuing? Is it because I don't realize that all my fear and trembling is for an image? Because I really believe that this image is myself? In the midst of this vast, unfathomable, ever-changing, dying, and renewing flow of life, the human brain is ceaselessly engaged in trying to fix for itself a state of permanency and certainty. Having the capacity to think and form pictures of ourselves, to remember them and become deeply attached to them, we take this world of pictures and ideas for real. We thoroughly believe in the reality of the picture story of our personal life. We are totally identified with it and want it to go on forever. The idea of "forever" is itself an invention of the human brain. Forever is a dream. Questioning beyond all thoughts, images, memories, and beliefs, questioning profoundly into the utter darkness of not-knowing, the realization may suddenly dawn that one is nothing at all - nothing - that all one has been holding on to are pictures and dreams. Being nothing is being everything. It is wholeness. Compassion. It is the ending of separation, fear, and sorrow. Is there pain when no one is there to hold on? There is beauty where there is no "me".

Toni Packer
what-is-personal-death-asking-this-question-pausing-to-look-inward-isnt-personal-death-concept-isnt-there-thoughtpicture-series-going-on-in-brain-these-scenes-personal-ending-tak
Do I, then, belong to the heavens? Why, if not so, should the heavens Fix me thus with their ceaseless blue stare, Luring me on, and my mind, higher Ever higher, up into the sky, Drawing me ceaselessly up To heights far, far above the human? Why, when balance has been strictly studied And flight calculated with the best of reason Till no aberrant element should, by rights, remain- Why, still, should the lust for ascension Seem, in itself, so close to madness? Nothing is that can satify me; Earthly novelty is too soon dulled; I am drawn higher and higher, more unstable, Closer and closer to the sun's effulgence. Why do these rays of reason destroy me? Villages below and meandering streams Grow tolerable as our distance grows. Why do they plead, approve, lure me With promise that I may love the human If only it is seen, thus, from afar- Although the goal could never have been love, Nor, had it been, could I ever have Belonged to the heavens? I have not envied the bird its freedom Nor have I longed for the ease of Nature, Driven by naught save this strange yearning For the higher, and the closer, to plunge myself Into the deep sky's blue, so contrary To all organic joys, so far From pleasures of superiority But higher, and higher, Dazzled, perhaps, by the dizzy incandescence Of waxen wings. Or do I then Belong, after all, to the earth? Why, if not so, should the earth Show such swiftness to encompass my fall? Granting no space to think or feel, Why did the soft, indolent earth thus Greet me with the shock of steel plate? Did the soft earth thus turn to steel Only to show me my own softness? That Nature might bring home to me That to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things, More natural by far than that improbable passion? Is the blue of the sky then a dream? Was it devised by the earth, to which I belonged, On account of the fleeting, white-hot intoxication Achieved for a moment by waxen wings? And did the heavens abet the plan to punish me? To punish me for not believing in myself Or for believing too much; Too earger to know where lay my allegiance Or vainly assuming that already I knew all; For wanting to fly off To the unknown Or the known: Both of them a single, blue speck of an idea?

Yukio Mishima
do-i-then-belong-to-heavens-why-if-not-should-heavens-fix-me-thus-with-their-ceaseless-blue-stare-luring-me-on-my-mind-higher-ever-higher-up-into-sky-drawing-me-ceaselessly-up-to
The studio was immense and gloomy, the sole light within it proceeding from a stove, around which the three were seated. Although they were bold, and of the age when men are most jovial, the conversation had taken, in spite of their efforts to the contrary, a reflection from the dull weather without, and their jokes and frivolity were soon exhausted. In addition to the light which issued from the crannies in the stove, there was another emitted from a bowl of spirits, which was ceaselessly stirred by one of the young men, as he poured from an antique silver ladle some of the flaming spirit into the quaint old glasses from which the students drank. The blue flame of the spirit lighted up in a wild and fantastic manner the surrounding objects in the room, so that the heads of old prophets, of satyrs, or Madonnas, clothed in the same ghastly hue, seemed to move and to dance along the walls like a fantastic procession of the dead; and the vast room, which in the day time sparkled with the creations of genius, seemed now, in its alternate darkness and sulphuric light, to be peopled with its dreams. Each time also that the silver spoon agitated the liquid, strange shadows traced themselves along the walls, hideous and of fantastic form. Unearthly tints spread also upon the hangings of the studio, from the old bearded prophet of Michael Angelo to those eccentric caricatures which the artist had scrawled upon his walls, and which resembled an army of demons that one sees in a dream, or such as Goya has painted; whilst the lull and rise of the tempest without but added to the fantastic and nervous feeling which pervaded those within. Besides this, to add to the terror which was creeping over the three occupants of the room, each time that they looked at each other they appeared with faces of a blue tone, with eyes fixed and glittering like live embers, and with pale lips and sunken cheeks; but the most fearful object of all was that of a plaster mask taken from the face of an intimate friend but lately dead, which, hanging near the window, let the light from the spirit fall upon its face, turned three parts towards them, which gave it a strange, vivid, and mocking expression. All people have felt the influence of large and dark rooms, such as Hoffmann has portrayed and Rembrandt has painted; and all the world has experienced those wild and unaccountable terrors - panics without a cause - which seize on one like a spontaneous fever, at the sight of objects to which a stray glimpse of the moon or a feeble ray from a lamp gives a mysterious form; nay, all, we should imagine, have at some period of their lives found themselves by the side of a friend, in a dark and dismal chamber, listening to some wild story, which so enchains them, that although the mere lighting of a candle could put an end to their terror, they would not do so; so much need has the human heart of emotions, whether they be true or false. So it was upon the evening mentioned. The conversation of the three companions never took a direct line, but followed all the phases of their thoughts; sometimes it was light as the smoke which curled from their cigars, then for a moment fantastic as the flame of the burning spirit, and then again dark, lurid, and sombre as the smile which lit up the mask from their dead friend's face. At last the conversation ceased altogether, and the respiration of the smokers was the only sound heard; and their cigars glowed in the dark, like Will-of-the-wisps brooding o'er a stagnant pool. It was evident to them all, that the first who should break the silence, even if he spoke in jest, would cause in the hearts of the others a start and tremor, for each felt that he had almost unwittingly plunged into a ghastly reverie. ("The Dead Man's Story")

James Hain Friswell
the-studio-was-immense-gloomy-sole-light-within-it-proceeding-from-stove-around-which-three-were-seated-although-they-were-bold-age-when-men-are-most-jovial-conversation-had-take
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