Quotes

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Descend into the depths of yourself as into a well; and as at the bottom of the bounded well you will find boundless groundwater: beneath your changing individuality you will find unchanging existence.
Most people believe that at death they will be annihilated, or will live on disembodied in space and time. Death is not an annihilation, nor is it a continuation of life; with death all that is the temporal, changing part of man is dissolved: the body, the feeling, the intellect, the whole personality; and the basic layer remains naked, in which there is no possibility of change, of creation, of destruction.
It is not man's being, but his separate being, that ceases. Today man can hardly distinguish between the cessation of his being and the cessation of his separate being: he can only imagine his being without his separateness, without his body, his feelings, his consciousness, his temporality, his changeability, as a state of fainting, of deep sleep. But the transition from separate existence to impersonal, real existence is not a diminution, or even an infinite intensification; it is not a deep sleep, but rather a fullness of wakefulness, compared to which even the most awake state of life is only a dazzling hesitation.
The one who descends into his own basic layer leaves behind all feelings of life, all thoughts and possibilities, and is where he will be after death, in the timeless, unchanging, where there is no more "I" and "not-I", but the identity of everything with everything, an indivisible infinity. It is not a swooning darkness, but a luminous radiance, a radiant action without action, a total love without feeling; an eternal changelessness, yet not a frozen state, but a supernaturalness of change, in which all variables are included, like the possibility of sleep in wakefulness.

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But we say in vain: "I am not touched by the shackle of the world, nor by its praise! All things are transient" - if we do not feel in our souls that we have done our duty to the world. I have often felt this self-reproach. It is not so difficult to renounce what the world offers in vain recognition, entertainment, social or material satisfaction, and to withdraw from people, to live only for our duties and for the small circle of people whose human service we have undertaken. Nor is it easy to do this, nor is it impossible; our retreat is received with disapproval, for they see in such conduct a contempt and criticism of worldly things; we are called eccentric, but at the same time a certain respect surrounds the morose hermit, and this respect and recognition satisfies our vanity. We are also relieved of much discomfort when we withdraw from people.

Yet a voice tells us that we are acting selfishly, conveniently, when we withdraw completely from contact with people, and wander in the desert of our work and our way of life, wrapped in the exalted solitude of the hermit. First of all, in the words of the French, any hermit is suspect who knows the exact timetables - most hermits, out of resentment or feelings of inferiority, know the exact departure times of trains, trains that can take you back to the world! - and around most of the "great loners" there radiates an atmosphere of vanity like the northern lights, which only shine, but do not warm or light. Then, not everyone has the right to be lonely. Only he has a right to solitude, only he has a real right to withdraw from men who can better serve the cause of men in this way. For no one has the right to be lonely out of spleen, out of spleen, pride, or vanity. But if our temperament and the nature of our work, by which we wish to serve men, are such that we need solitude for this, then, only then, may we avoid the company of men. But such a worker and such a work are rare, and the man who chooses solitude should first take a good account of his conscience.

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When life, some human situation, forces you to make a decision, be careful to place your decisions within the framework of the law of change: for all "decisions" take their final shape and form only in time.

Decide, but not so necessarily! Not so at all costs! Not quite so! Give the human decision the leeway it needs to fit into the world and time, to find its place in the laws of human intentions and change. Don't try to fix with oath, nail, and hammer for all time what night and morning change, your heart and intellect are forever grinding, twisting, changing something, today, tomorrow, and forever. Give the resolution time and space to find its true place and form in the world. Decide, but not too much! Decide, but not necessarily! Take action, but at the same time leave everything to time. You will see, tomorrow or a year from now, that it is not you who have decided, but the very volume in which all human affairs are decided: time.

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There are the indifferents, the friends, the opponents, who fight against you at the behest of an idea or belief or interest. That is the order of human life, that is the only way to have a nice tension in life: between friends and opponents, between a great mass of indifference.

And then there is the enemy. He is not an adversary, he is more than that. It is as if destiny had appointed you two to a duel without reason or sense. You know of him, as he knows of you, though you have not crossed his path in any sphere of life or career. He hates you, seeks your bread, your life: you have never sinned against him. For a lifetime you avoid and seek each other.

What can you do against it? First of all, try to understand. He is the counterweight in your life. Otherwise, your life's struggle would be a muddy and unhappy one. You need him. You must overcome yourself to defeat him. You must know the truth to be right with him. You must be better, for he thinks you evil and proclaims you evil. God has appointed him to be your partner on earth. You have a common enterprise, as champions. Do not stab him prematurely; do not stab him at all. he teaches you to live, to fight, to defend yourself. Know that you need him.

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Thanks to the women.

Thanks to you who gave birth to me. And to you who were my wife. And to you, third, tenth, thousandth, who gave me a smile, a caress, a warm glance, on the street, in passing, comforted me when I was lonely, carried me away when I feared death. Thank you for being blonde. And to you for being white. And to you, for your hands were beautiful. And you for being stupid and good. And for you, because you were smart and cheerful. And for you, because you were patient and generous. And for you, because you covered my face with your hair when I was down and wanted to hide from the world, and for you, because your body gave warmth to my body when I was cold in the loneliness of life. And to you, for you bore me a child. And you, for you will hold my eyes with soft fingers. And to you, for you gave me bread and wine when I was hungry and thirsty. And for you, because your body radiated pleasure. And thanks to you for being good like animals. And to you, because your body smelled like the earth at the beginning of life. Thanks to women, thanks.

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Travel light. Travel, but know at every moment that there is nowhere for the passenger to really stay. Don't spend a lot of time sorting your luggage, and don't carry unnecessary items on your travels. Packing ages you.

It's the small, incidental tasks of life that age you most. The fiddling around, the unnecessary complications of daily rituals, the annoyance of buttons falling off, the worry of mail not being sent on time, packing on the road. You don't just age dramatically, with waving white curls and calcified veins, no. You also age prematurely if your laundry doesn't fit in your hamper after a week, even though it fit splendidly in its ironed state a week ago. Travel light, like the birds. You'll go farther and stay young.

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One day everything will have to be accounted for. But everything. It is inevitable. And however you think: what you've done wrong, what you owe, what you've been cowardly, what you've been guilty of, you'll give an account for it all one day. Strengthen therefore your soul always: for you are not without sin. And if I am burned at the stake, know that I am innocent, but I am also guilty. And give an account of thyself willingly, before they demand it: thou doest wisely, and men will esteem thee better if thou doest so. Do not delay the reckoning. What can you hope for? You are a man, therefore you are guilty.

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When the holiday arrives in your life, celebrate all the way. Wear black. Brush your hair with a wet brush. Clean inside and out. Forget everything that is the ritual and duty of ordinary days. The holiday is not only written in red letters on the calendar. Look at the people of the olden days, how devoutly, how unconditionally, how circumstantially, how much wild joy they celebrated! The feast of distinction. The holiday is a profound and magical unconventionality. Let the feast be festive. Let it have dancing, flowers, young women, choice dishes, and blood-sparkling drinks providing oblivion. And above all, let there be something of the old order, of the seventh day, of the interruption, of the total shutdown, let there be reverence and unalloyed. The holiday is the rank, the higher meaning of life. Prepare for it, in body and soul.

And it's not just the calendar that has a red-letter day. Life also brings other kinds of invisible holidays. Forget everything and focus on the holiday.

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When illness is around you, with great strength and will you can stay in control of the affliction for a while. In the beginning. When fate is still lurking around you. Measuring your strength like a fighter against an opponent. If at such a time you are very watchful, very strong, keep true order in your soul, in your things - health: truth - you may remain the stronger in the early times of the duel. To stay healthy is to stay fair and just.

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The most interesting phenomenon we can encounter in human life is human character. Nothing is so interesting, so surprising, so unpredictable as the process by which a man betrays his character traits. Whatever the world has to offer: landscapes and natural wonders, the immense variety of the earth's flora and fauna, nothing is as unique as the character of a person. When our interest in the things of the world leads us to a knowledge of human character, we feel at once that this has been our real task in life. Everything else we have come to know has only enriched our knowledge. But our souls are only enriched by the knowledge of character. For this is the most direct human experience, yes, the character is man himself.

And because character is man, it is useless to try to conceal it: character can no more be concealed by man than his physical being can be concealed by any veil of mist. We may wear false beards and disguises from time to time in life, but in a moment all the disguises will fall away and reality will be revealed. A gesture, a word, an action can finally reveal our true character: the masquerade ball can only be a casual affair. And the encounter with the true qualities of a character is the greatest human experience we can have.

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Every sage whose thought I have ever known has taught me that we should live and write as if every action we take in life is our last as if every sentence we write is followed by death. Only the awareness of death without emotion, without fear, without unwise cowardice, gives our life and our writing a true attitude. We must live and write in a fatal way, that is, calmly, very attentively, with equal attention to the world and to ourselves, to our intellect and our passions, to the intentions of men and to our relations with the universe. This is the only conduct worthy of man: God requires no more of us. And there is no greater sin and vainer temptation than to want more or less than God requires of us.

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I was travelling on a train, third class. A nun boarded with a lot of luggage: things for a new children's shelter.
He was not wearing anything remarkable to the eye, but his being was radiant: he was no longer affected by life on earth, which did not prevent him from being more active than those who want a hundred things from life.
I addressed her. Have you got all your luggage? She thought about it and started counting: "One, two, three... eight, nine" and then pointed to herself: "ten". For her, her own body was just luggage. This simple-minded, helpless, absent-minded little servant is more powerful than all the weapons on earth put together.

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The invention of our time is compulsory enthusiasm, the revolution institutionalised by authority and the revolt of the oppressors against the oppressed.
Today's regimes of domination are characterised by the fact that they do not necessarily want their lies to be believed, only to be accepted. All military forces must sing about themselves that they are the best, without anyone believing it; all citizens must profess about the head of state that he is wise, heroic, a benefactor, without anyone believing it; and so on.
Now even a plausible lie is an unattainable height. We are in a pit, lower than the bottom of the frog.

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A moving object can be injured, movement is inviolable; the things of life can be injured, life is inviolable. Recognize separately in yourself that which is moving and is the thing of life: all that is your temporary part; and that which is movement and is life itself: all that is your final whole.

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Table and non-table, long and short, good and bad, eternal and ephemeral - The double Names are perfect guides to man. And he who sees beyond them: glimpses the Unnamable.
Just as day and night are halved around the globe, so are the namable dualities halved around the unnamable soul. In sleep, death and contemplation, there is no day and night, and where separation ceases, there also cease the namable dualities.

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Whenever you can free yourself from your circumstances: the final state, in which life and death are identical, unfolds in you like a boundless radiance.
The ultimate gift: a motionless dance, a sweetness beyond taste, beyond measure.

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The reason thinks by turning thoughts into a series of words. Whoever penetrates behind his intellect, into the world of infinite currents, here comes to a different form of thought, which may be called "angelic intellect": the spiritual contents do not appear as words, but as stationary and moving figures in an otherworldly space; here are not happy, sad, pleasant, unpleasant thoughts, but round, angular, smooth, strong, monochrome, variegated thoughts. There is an unnameable blend of sharpness and dullness, of brilliance and gloom, which covers everything, which may best be called 'music without sound'; it is the music of the angels, the music of the spheres.
And beyond the infinite currents, in the union of totality, there is another form of thought: this is the "divine intellect" in which the thinker, the object of thought, and the thought are identical.

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The rainbow bridge is the only one where angels and devils come and go in such a way that you can hardly tell them apart.

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Those who wear their names as clothes, hide their heads under their wings, retreat into their dreams.

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And cultivate your soul to a steadfast existence of need. This is most important. The mass world is only greedy, not demanding. You remain moderate and exigent. The world is becoming more and more like a Woolworth's department store, where for a sixpenny you can get everything, in shoddy quality, that can satisfy the daily desires of the epicurean masses quickly, cheaply, and for pennies. The dangers of this mass consumerism are already showing themselves, in all spheres of life and spirit. A culture is not only destroyed when barbarians appear with hatchets in the fine squares of Athens and Rome but it is also destroyed when those same barbarians appear in the public squares of a culture and engage in a massive exchange of demand and supply of unwanted goods. You be selective. Do not choose gently and with a wrinkle of the nose, but with rigor and ruthlessness. You can't be too demanding morally, or spiritually. You can't be consistent enough to say: this is noble, this is Talmudic, this is valuable, this is rubbish. That's your business, if you're a man, and you want to keep that rank.