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Quote by Alma Camino

“In this global dance of souls, the ripple effects of our actions are profound. A single act of kindness, a moment of deep listening, a gesture of love—these seemingly small actions have the power to heal, to bridge divides, and to create a ripple of peace that extends far beyond our immediate experience. In this way, the soulful path is not just a personal journey but a collective one, where each step we take in love and awareness contributes to the healing of the world.”

Quote by Alma Camino

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Alma Camino

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“Humanity is suffering from a lack of love. All other problems arise out of this problem. War, poverty and conflicts can disappear with minutes, because they are not the real problem. They are symptoms that love is missing. We have the science and technology to make earth a paradise, but nobody has the heart that can share. Instead science and technology are being used to destroy and to be destructive. Seventy percent of nation's income is being used on the army and development of new weapons. Man can be immensely happy. The world is full of all that is needed for man to be happy: the trees, the flowers, the people, the rivers, the mountains and the stars. But somewhere inside man something essential is missing. Man has forgotten the language of love. He lives through anger, power, violence, jealousy, conflicts and possessiveness. They are the enemies of love. These are the poisons, which  destroy love. A meditator has to drop all that is against love. He has to move the barriers against love, so that love can start can start flowing, because love is our nature. When these obstructions  are removed, love becomes a golden light It is a light that not only lights up your path, but it can also light the path of other people. It is a light by which one becomes aware of God's presence. Love is the only light, which can become the bridge to God. Love is the only light, which becomes the realization of God.”

“I had withdrawn from humanity because I had, in fact, lost my humanity. I had believed that without my humanity, there was little to no purpose to my continuing to exist. However, in the past few minutes, I have begun to believe that perhaps... Just perhaps... There is some small aspect of human feeling left to me." "Why?" "Because I find that you three annoy the hell out of me. I feel the urge to smack you... Particularly Impulse. For that, I am indebted. Thank you." "You're uh... You're welcome... I guess.”

“For humanity everything passes without a trace. Of course, it’s possible that by randomly pulling chestnuts out of this fire, we’ll eventually stumble on something that will make life on Earth completely unbearable. That would be bad luck. But you have to admit, that’s a danger humanity has always faced [...] You see, I’ve long since become unused to discussing humanity as a whole. Humanity as a whole is too stable a system, nothing upsets it.”

“Another sort of landscape poetry is to be found in Wordsworth, for whom the title of poet of nature might perhaps be claimed. To him the landscape is an influence. What he renders, beyond such pictorial touches as language is capable of, is the moral inspiration which the scene brings to him. This moral inspiration is not drawn at all from the real processes of nature which every landscape manifests in some aspect and for one moment. Such would have been the method of Lucretius; he would have passed imaginatively from the landscape to the sources of the landscape; he would have disclosed the poetry of matter, not of spirit. Wordsworth, on the contrary, dwells on adventitious human matters. He is no poet of genesis, evolution, and natural force in its myriad manifestations. Only a part of the cosmic process engages his interest, or touches his soul—the strengthening or chastening of human purposes by the influences of landscape. These influences are very real; for as food or wine keeps the animal heart beating, or quickens it, so large spaces of calm sky, or mountains, or dells, or solitary stretches of water, expand the breast, disperse the obsessions that cramp a man’s daily existence, and even if he be less contemplative and less virtuous than Wordsworth, make him, for the moment, a friend to all things, and a friend to himself. Yet these influences are vague and for the most part fleeting. Wordsworth would hardly have felt them so distinctly and so constantly had he not found a further link to bind landscape to moral sentiment. Such a link exists. The landscape is the scene of human life. Every spot, every season, is associated with the sort of existence which falls to men in that environment. Landscape for Wordsworth’s age and in his country was seldom without figures. At least, some visible trace of man guided the poet and set the key for his moral meditation. Country life was no less dear to Wordsworth than landscape was; it fitted into every picture; and while the march of things, as Lucretius conceived it, was not present to Wordsworth’s imagination, the revolutions of society—the French Revolution, for instance—were constantly in his thoughts. In so far as he was a poet of human life, Wordsworth was truly a poet of nature. In so far, however, as he was a poet of landscape, he was still fundamentally a poet of human life, or merely of his personal experience. When he talked of nature he was generally moralizing, and altogether subject to the pathetic fallacy; but when he talked of man, or of himself, he was unfolding a part of nature, the upright human heart, and studying it in its truth.”