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Quote by Avijeet Das

“She loved riding her cycle in the evenings, when the breeze was cool and the humidity was less. The color of the cycle reminded her of the sky. While riding, she felt as if she were flying. She loved this feeling of flying: as if she were a bird flying in the sky. Life is so beautiful, she realized. But she could not understand why people fought wars. Why people hated one another? The birds did not hate each other; they just loved flying under the wide blue sky and above the vast green grass. She often wondered about life and the answers to life's questions. But her mind could never find answers to her questions.”

Quote by Avijeet Das

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Avijeet Das

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“And a soul would run by a living being, touch them softly on the shoulder or cheek, and continue on its way to heaven. The dead are never exactly seen by the living, but many people seem acutely aware of something changed around them. They speak of a chill in the air. The mates of the deceased wake from dreams and see a figure standing at the end of their bed, or in a doorway, or boarding, phantomlike, a city bus.”

DeathLossGriefParanormalAfterlifeDeath Of A Loved OneGhostsAfter Death
Book:The Lovely Bones
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“There is a lonesome field of tall grasses within which one might pass a warm dusk eve and watch the stars and fireflies bring new illumination against the periwinkle sky and amidst the faint symphony of crickets and marsh frogs. A breeze whisks over and nearly flattens the fibrous stalks, and there is a sense of renewing peace that fills the form on this eve that one might wish to carry forward into all moments thereafter—a resplendent sense of contentment. All is finally and lastingly to one’s satisfaction. And yet, right now, this notion of satisfaction seems illusory and unattainable. At these depths, it seems too like a childish game.”

MeditationSkyIllusionDivingUnderwaterBeauty And Distraction
Book:trenches parallax leapfrog
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“The totality constituted by Good and Evil together transcends us, but we should accept it totally. There can be no intelligence of things so long as this fundamental rule is ignored. The illusion that the two can be distinguished in order to promote one or the other is absurd. (This applies to the proponents of evil for evil's sake as much as to anyone else, for they will end up doing good.) All kinds of events are out there, impossible to predict. They have already occurred, or are just about to heave into view. All we can do is train our searchlight, as it were, and keep our telescopic lens on this virtual world in the hope that some of those events will be obliging enough to allow themselves to be captured. Theory can be no more than this: a trap set in the hope that reality will be naive enough to fall into it. The essential thing is to point the searchlight the right way. Unfortunately, we don't know which way that is. We can only comb the sky. In most instances the events are so far away, metaphysically speaking, that they merely cause a slight phosphorescence on the screen. They have to be developed and enlarged, like photographs. Not in order to discover their meaning, however: they are not logograms, but holograms. They can no more be explained than the fixed spectrum of a star or the variations of red. To capture such strange events, theory itself must be remade as something strange: as a perfect crime, or as a strange attractor.”

SkyEndgameHologramsScreenSimulacrumsLosing From Winning To Much
Book:The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
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“As the dawn approached, I gave up trying to sleep. I threw a cardigan over my pajamas, padded out to the kitchen, and made some coffee. I sat at the kitchen table and watched the sky grow lighter by the minute. It had been a long time since I’d seen the dawn. At one end of the sky a line of blue appeared, and like blue ink on a piece of paper, it spread slowly across the horizon. If you gathered together all the shades of blue in the world and picked the bluest, the epitome of blue, this was the color you would choose. I rested my elbows on the table and looked at that scene, my mind blank. When the sun showed itself over the horizon, that blue was swallowed up by ordinary sunlight A single cloud floated above the cemetery, a pure white cloud, its edges distinct A cloud so sharply etched you could write on it A new day had begun. But what this day would bring, I had no idea.”

SpiritualHopeSky
Book:South of the Border, West of the Sun
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