Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Kilroy J. Oldster

Quote by Kilroy J. Oldster

“We each labor under our own brand of personal doubt that undercuts longed for equanimity. We diligently search for a lost language that tells us how to live with zest and joy. We seek to align ourselves with our sublime inner nature and mirror the divine wholesomeness of the matchless beauty of the natural world that surrounds us. We seek to devolve transcendent fluidity of the mind through the personal power of self-control, perception, and knowledge.”

Quote by Kilroy J. Oldster

Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image

Work

Dead Toad Scrolls

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Kilroy J. Oldster

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Kilroy J. Oldster. more

You May Also Like

“An infusion of storytelling lifeblood of into the vein of time provides a means to stitch a common thread of conjoined understanding through the collective consciousness of our generation. The communal sheaves of internal dialogue handed-down through the ages trace a seamless patchwork of wisdom, weaving the broadcloth of perception with strands of evocative fabric gleaned from examining the textile breach of humankind’s fitful existence.”

StoriesMemoirStorytellingWriters On WritingMemoir WritingPersonal EssaysEssayistStorytelling QuotesWriters On Writing Life
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image

“Half way through life a thoughtful person must undertake an honest assessment of their life. I am now fifty years old. I am rapidly turning into a dry stalk, my breath is sour, and I am beginning to smell of the grave. I melancholy project that in all probability I have now existed about half the period of time that I shall remain in this sublunary world. Resembling the trajectory of other men reaching middle age, my upward ascent in life crested and now I am commencing the meteoric downhill descent. Distinct from Americas’ pioneers and other luminaries whom played an important role in expanding our knowledge and deepened our appreciation of nature, I have done nothing to advance the human condition. I have not mapped any new territory, contributed to the arts or sciences, or expanded our comprehension of mathematics or the natural sciences: astronomy, biology, chemistry, the Earth sciences, and physics. I did not contribute to medicine, cognitive science, behavioral science, social science, or the humanities. Unlike revered social leaders whom advocated peaceful relations with all people, I remained mute while domestic and international conflicts sundered communities. I created no historical existence; I exist only as an introspective being. I have not added one iota to the bank of knowledge of succeeding generations. I have not added any quarter of happiness to other people. My contribution to the human race is nil. In all probability, I will flame out without leaving a lasting trace of my mundane personal existence.”

MemoirWriters On WritingMemoir WritingPersonal EssaysEssay WritingWriters On Writing Life
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image

“My charter is to examine my egoistical self and alter my being by placing on paper whatever rests inside of me. I seek to develop a cohesive philosophy for living – and for dying – that is spiritually nourishing by dichotomizing the events in life that formed me. I aspire to discover an authentic core that will guide me through a physical world where human thoughts and deeds deepen our lives. Just as a flower must bud, every person feels in his or her marrow the need to express what it means to be human. Unlike a flower, which we perceive as a singular iridescent unit of material reality, we tend to perceive oneself as containing interlacement of multitudes, an array of interlaced voices.”

MemoirPhilosophy Of LifeWriters On WritingWriting ProcessMemoir WritingWriting MemoirWriters On Writing LifeWriters On Writing Books
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image

“I seek to ascertain a way to breathe life back into my sunken chamber. I need to discover an incarnate means to replicate the meditative shadow that appears on the wall of my inner cave. I must eliminate the distorted manner that I look at the world through the falsifying mirrors of illusion and delusion. My innermost fear is that I wasted precious time, squandered opportunities, and the clock will expire before I create any worthy testament to the pristine beauty of nature or innate goodness of humankind. I shudder in the creeping shadows of the evening struck by the thought that I lack the discipline, talent, and fortitude as well as the crucial gift of evaluation and analysis demanded to add to the collective good. I fear that selfishly ensconced in a cosseted life I ignored the shaft of light that openly beckons each of us to unbolt. I am clueless of how to release the glorious expression of beauty that our nature seeks to burnish in our fleeting ambulation across the plains of time. Do I dare pull back the curtain and unmask the timid man that stands hidden behind the sheltering layers of untruth that conceal the demesne of his mangled personal thoughts, feelings, emotions, wants, and needs? Inside this crusted urn, is there a shard of anything that can be cultivated for goodness, if only I possessed the strength of mind and insight to will it into fruition? Does one know how to share their modest notions with other people who might yearn to hear that they too are not alone?”

MemoirAutobiographyMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPersonal EssaysEssayistWriters On Writing LifeNarrative WritingAutobiographical
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image

“Finishing large projects can result in a mild or severe thud of depression. The scariest part about completing any demanding project is that irrespective of how exhausting the labor might be the work also arrests a person’s attention. Working passionately is akin to a person consenting to a kidnaping. A person engaged in performing a princely task feels whisked away on a captivating voyage of undetermined final destination. At times, I wondered if the only thing that actually kept me going is the work of crafting sentences. Writing sentences is contagious. Finishing a sentence infects a person with a desire to write another sentence. The feverish rash of writing spread until it consumed all my resources. Once I stop writing, I will need to find a new reason to awaken each day.”

WritingMemoirWritersWriting ProcessMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPersonal EssaysEssayistWriters On Writing LifeWriters On Writing Books
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
Create image