Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by ่Joel L. Whitton

Quote by ่Joel L. Whitton

“I could see Isobel's body floating in a dark, broiling sea. There was a massive storm raging. I knew that I had once been Isobel, but now I didn't have a body. I was floating in all-embracing golden light. I felt comfortable and warm and untouched by the elements. Even though I didn't have a body, I felt quite whole and at one with my surroundings. I realized I could see in all directions. Looking at Isobel's body, I felt no emotions. I felt no fear and no loneliness, although I seemed to be alone. Then the light spread and I appeared to be moving up. I felt tremendous warmth and love and happiness. All around me was golden light, as though I were basking in very bright sunshine. There was no division, no separateness. All was one. It was incredibly beautiful and peaceful. I saw flashes of pastel rainbow hues and heard hundreds of voices singing simple but beautiful melodies. I just floated there happily, feeling I was a part of it all, that I truly belonged.”

Quote by ่Joel L. Whitton

Work

Life Between Life

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

่Joel L. Whitton

Browse famous quotes and profile details for ่Joel L. Whitton. more

You May Also Like

“We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as the wind does on the sea.”

“Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, i was reminded of something - an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that i had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment, a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man's, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what i had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.”

“Prayer for My Son The low river flows like smoked glass. Small bass guard their nest. Next To our house, the cardinals in their Crabapple feed two open mouths. Parents and offspring, we flex And swing in this future’s coming, Mirror we look into only darkly. My youngest is boarding an airplane To a New York he’s never seen. Raised in such slumberous innocence Of Bible schools and lemonade, I adjust poorly to this thirst for Fame, this electronic buzz prizing Brilliance and murderers. Oh son, Know that the psyche has its own Fame, whether known or not, that Soul can flame like feathers of a bird. Grow into your own plumage, brightly, So that any tree is a marvelous city. I wave from here by this Indian Eno, Whose lonely name I make known.”