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Quote by Frederick Buechner

“Somos todos mais místicos do que acreditamos ou queremos crer (...). Temos visto mais do que deixamos transparecer, até para nós mesmos. Seja em momentos de beleza ou dor, seja por meio de alguma reviravolta sutil em nossa vida, ao menos vislumbramos o que cegou os santos; só que, ao contrário dos santos, seguimos em frente como se nada tivesse acontecido. Seguir em frente ciente de que algo aconteceu, apesar de não ter certeza do que foi, nem do que fazer com o que ocorreu, é entrar na dimensão da vida de que trata a palavra religião.”

Quote by Frederick Buechner

Book:A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces – Essays and Sermons on Faith, Love, and the Power of Words
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A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces – Essays and Sermons on Faith, Love, and the Power of Words

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Author

Frederick Buechner
Frederick Buechner

Frederick Buechner, born on July 11, 1926, is a renowned American writer. His works span across various genres including novels, essays, and plays, known for their profound religious and philosophical reflections. more

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“What if I had made different choices from the start? What if I had stuck around to watch another year of seasons spin here in Oxford, staying to see the daffodils bloom or to wander beneath the privet tunnel hand in hand with Fisher? What if we had kept right on kissing until the naked ladies emerged near the Osage orange? What if I had lingered long enough to see cape jasmine arrive, her voluptuous white bundles an aromatic call for summer love? Or even longer, when the spider lilies burst open in the fall and the yellow autumn light fell low among mossy roots? What if I had stayed through winter, forming snow angels with my lover beneath the icy cedar boughs? What if I had not let fear defeat me after Fisher knelt before me in my mother's backyard garden, ring in his hand and happy-ever-after in his heart?”

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“For I have indeed been torn from all my roots, even from the earth that nourished them, more entirely than most in our times. I was born in 1881 in the great and mighty empire of the Habsburg Monarchy, but you would look for it in vain on the map today; it has vanished without trace. I grew up in Vienna, an international metropolis for two thousand years, and had to steal away from it like a thief in the night before it was demoted to the status of a provincial German town. My literary work, in the language in which I wrote it, has been burnt to ashes in the country where my books made millions of readers their friends. So I belong nowhere now, I am a stranger or at the most a guest everywhere. Even the true home of my heart’s desire, Europe, is lost to me after twice tearing itself suicidally to pieces in fratricidal wars. Against my will, I have witnessed the most terrible defeat of reason and the most savage triumph of brutality in the chronicles of time. Never—and I say so not with pride but with shame—has a generation fallen from such intellectual heights as ours to such moral depths.”

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