Illumined 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
even-sun-directs-our-gaze-away-from-itself-to-life-illumined-by-it-eberhard-arnold
let-my-love-like-sunlight-surround-you-yet-give-you-illumined-freedom-rabindranath-tagore
a-spirtually-illumined-soul-lives-in-world-yet-is-never-contaminated-by-it-swami-bhaskarananda
ruth-bader-ginsburg-is-most-liberal-illumined-nine-justices-us-supreme-court
taigen-dan-leighton-has-lovingly-illumined-still-another-dimension-human-condition-john-daishin-buksbazen
god-has-placed-in-each-soul-apostle-to-lead-us-upon-illumined-path-yet-many-seek-life-from-without-unaware-that-is-within-them-khalil-gibran
until-we-are-renewed-in-spirit-our-mind-illumined-in-every-part-our-virtues-are-but-taught-practices-grafted-upon-corrupt-bottom-william-law
as-visit-one-we-love-makes-whole-day-pleasant-is-it-illumined-made-fair-by-brave-beautiful-thought-john-lancaster-spalding
there-is-but-one-god-true-is-his-name-creative-his-personality-immortal-his-form-he-is-without-fear-sans-enmity-unborn-selfillumined-by-gurus-grace-he-is-obtained-guru-nanak
there-are-places-where-it-is-easy-to-see-places-illumination-where-one-moves-into-illumined-states-attention-frederick-lenz
to-dull-mind-all-nature-is-leaden-to-illumined-mind-whole-world-burns-sparkles-with-light-ralph-waldo-emerson
there-is-no-feminine-gaze-that-i-would-not-forget-at-sight-mountains-covered-with-curly-vegetation-illumined-by-southern-sun-at-sight-blue-sky-at-sound-torrent-that-falls-from-cr
if-your-heart-isnt-yet-illumined-be-awake-always-be-seeker-heart-be-at-war-continually-with-your-carnal-soul-but-if-your-heart-is-already-awakened-rumi
the-fixed-is-world-without-fire-dead-flint-dead-tinder-nowhere-spark-it-is-motion-without-direction-force-without-power-aimless-procession-caterpillars-round-rim-vase-i-hate-it-b
He hoped and feared, ' continued Solon, in a low. mournful voice; 'but at times he was very miserable, because he did not think it possible that so much happiness was reserved for him as the love of this beautiful, innocent girl. At night, when he was in bed, and all the world was dreaming, he lay awake looking up at the old books against the walls, thinking how he could bring about the charming of her heart. One night, when he was thinking of this, he suddenly found himself in a beautiful country, where the light did not come from sun or moon or stars, but floated round and over and in everything like the atmosphere. On all sides he heard mysterious melodies sung by strangely musical voices. None of the features of the landscape was definite; yet when he looked on the vague harmonies of colour that melted one into another before his sight he was filled with a sense of inexplicable beauty. On every side of him fluttered radiant bodies, which darted to and fro through the illuminated space. They were not birds, yet they flew like birds; and as each one crossed the path of his vision he felt a strange delight flash through his brain, and straightaway an interior voice seemed to sing beneath the vaulted dome of his temples a verse containing some beautiful thought. Little fairies were all this time dancing and fluttering around him, perching on his head, on his shoulders, or balancing themselves on his fingertips. 'Where am I?' he asked. 'Ah, Solon?' he heard them whisper, in tones that sounded like the distant tinkling of silver bells, "this land is nameless; but those who tread its soil, and breathe its air, and gaze on its floating sparks of light, are poets forevermore.' Having said this, they vanished, and with them the beautiful indefinite land, and the flashing lights, and the illumined air; and the hunchback found himself again in bed, with the moonlight quivering on the floor, and the dusty books on their shelves, grim and mouldy as ever.' ("The Wondersmith")

Fitz-James O'Brien
he-hoped-feared-continued-solon-in-low-mournful-voice-but-at-times-he-was-miserable-because-he-did-not-think-it-possible-that-much-happiness-was-reserved-for-him-as-love-this-bea
The bast, dispersing in shreds in the sunset whispered "Time has begun." The son, Adam, stripped naked, descended into the Old Testament of his native land and arrayed himself in bast; a wreath of roadside field grass he placed upon his brow, a staff, not a switch, he pulled from the ground, flourishing the birch branch like a sacred palm. On the road he stood like a guard. The dust-gray road ran into the sunset. And a crow perched there, perched and croaked, there where the celestial fire consumed the earth. There were blind men along the dust-gray road running into the twilight. Antique, crooken, they trailed along, lonely and sinister silhouettes, holding to one another and to their leader's cane. They were raising dust. One was beard-less, he kept squinting. Another, a little old man with a protruding lip, was whispering and praying. A third, covered with red hair, frowned. Their backs were bent, their heads bowed low, their arms extended to the staff. Strange it was to see this mute procession in the terrible twilight. They made their way immutable, primordial, blind. Oh, if only they could open their eyes, oh if only they were not blind! Russian Land, awake! And Adam, rude image of the returned king, lowered the birch branch to their white pupils. And on them he laid his hands, as, groaning and moaning they seated themselves in the dust and with trembling hands pushed chunks of black bread into their mouths. Their faces were ashen and menacing, lit with the pale light of deadly clouds. Lightning blazed, their blinded faces blazed. Oh, if only they opened their eyes, oh, if only they saw the light! Adam, Adam, you stand illumined by lightnings. Now you lay the gentle branch upon their faces. Adam, Adam, say, see, see! And he restores their sight. But the blind men turning their ashen faces and opening their white eyes did not see. And the wind whispered "Thou art behind the hill." From the clouds a fiery veil began to shimmer and died out. A little birch murmured, beseeching, and fell asleep. The dusk dispersed at the horizon and a bloody stump of the sunset stuck up. And spotted with brilliant coals glowing red, the bast streamed out from the sunset like a striped cloak. On the waxen image of Adam the field grass wreaths sighed fearfully giving a soft whistle and the green dewy clusters sprinkled forth fiery tears on the blind faces of the blind. He knew what he was doing, he was restoring their sight. ("Adam")

Andrei Bely
the-bast-dispersing-in-shreds-in-sunset-whispered-time-has-begun-the-son-adam-stripped-naked-descended-into-old-testament-his-native-land-arrayed-himself-in-bast-wreath-roadside-
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