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Quote by Craig D. Lounsbrough

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Craig D. Lounsbrough

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“Modern thought, with its distrust of anything that escapes rational analysis, has practically eliminated the word ‘soul’ from its vocabulary—an elimination not unrelated of course to the chronic sterility or bankruptcy of this thought in the face of what is the first concern of any philosophical speculation worthy of the name: the question of our living identity. The Christian authors, however, on whom I draw for the substance of this chapter were more wholly engaged in the pursuit of our living identity than we tend to be. For them the soul is that highly charged complex of thought, feeling and sensitivity with which God endows us at birth. It is all that in me by virtue of which I am conscious of myself, through which and by means of which I experience myself as a living reality, as an ‘I am’. It is in fact the one reality about which I can have a sure and direct knowledge. About everything else I may have doubts; but I cannot—unless I am a lunatic—question the reality of my own soul, because simply to ask the question implies the existence of the questioner.”

PhilosophyRealityHumanityChristianitySpirtuality
Book:The Rape of Man & Nature: An Inquiry Into the Origins and Consequences of Modern Science
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“He loved the city most at night. The night hid many of the sorrows. It silenced the city yet brought deep undercurrents to the surface. It was in this dark slip-stream that he believed he moved most freely. Behind the cover of shadows. Like a rider in a limousine, he looked out but no one looked in. There was a random feel to the dark, the quirkiness of chance played out in the blue neon night. So many ways to live. And to die. You could be riding in the back of a studio's black limo, or just as easily the back of the coroner's blue van. The sound of applause was the same as the buzz of a bullet spinning past your ear in the dark. That randomness. That was L.A. There was flash fire and flash flood, earthquake, mudslide. There was the drive-by shooter and the crack-stoked burglar. The drunk driver and the always curving road ahead. There were killer cops and cop killers. There was the husband of the woman you were sleeping with. And there was the woman. At any moment on any night there were people being raped, violated, maimed. Murdered and loved. There was always a baby at his mother's breast. And, sometimes, a baby alone in a Dumpster. Somewhere.”

RealityNightDarknessFateLonelinessAtmosphereLife And DeathCity LifeRandomnessUrban Noir
Book:The Black Ice
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“But to speak to everyone about everyone, it is necessary to speak of what everyone knows and the reality that is common to us all. The sea, the rain, our needs and desires, the struggle against death—these are the things that unite us. We resemble each other through what we see together, the things we suffer through together. Dreams change according to the person, but the reality of the world is our common ground.”

ArtReality
Book:Create Dangerously
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“What could be more beautiful than being able to look within ourselves, alongside those we love and are close to? Each of us, through a clear sense of self, needs to imprint and fulfill this closeness between feminine and masculine, and each to transmit in opposite directions what they feel for each other, what they project to fulfill and become reality in their future. Love and be open in a sincere and true direction.”

LoveRealityFutureDirectionOurselves
Author:Oprea Ionel
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