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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“The Tao is infinite, eternal. Why is it eternal? It was never born; thus it can never die. Why is it infinite? It has no desires for itself; thus it is present for all beings. The Master stays behind; that is why she is ahead. She is detached from all things; that is why she is one with them. Because she has let go of herself, she is perfectly fulfilled.”

“The Tao is the center of the universe, the good man's treasure, the bad man's refuge. Honors can be bought with fine words, respect can be won with good deeds; but the Tao is beyond all value, and no one can achieve it. Thus, when a new leader is chosen, don't offer to help him with your wealth or your expertise. Offer instead to teach him about the Tao. Why did the ancient Masters esteem the Tao? Because, being one with the Tao, when you seek, you find; and when you make a mistake, you are forgiven. That is why everybody loves it.”

“The Tao never does anything, yet through it all things are done. If powerful men and women could venter themselves in it, the whole world would be transformed by itself, in its natural rhythms. People would be content with their simple, everyday lives, in harmony, and free of desire. When there is no desire, all things are at peace.”

“The Tao Te Ching says, “The enemy is a shadow you yourself cast.” The shadow wanders our unregarded hours where we hold resentments, where we are lost, when there is nothing and no one to blame, though we keep on blaming. I often wonder what is the light that hits the ego, casting out the shadow? It is gratitude. And if the ego is gone, as it is when we are truly grateful, there is no one to cast a shadow. We can replace blame with gratitude—in any circumstance. Blame builds up walls around the self and points only outward. Gratitude opens the heart, dissolves the self, and points everywhere.”

“The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal name. The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth. The named is the mother of ten thousand things. Ever desireless, one can see the mystery. Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations. These two spring from the same source but differ in name; this appears as darkness. Darkness within darkness. The gate to all mystery.”

“The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao The name that can be named is not the eternal Name. The unnamable is the eternally real. Naming is the origin of all particular things. Free from desire, you realize the mystery. Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations. Yet mystery and manifestations arise from the same source. This source is called darkness. Darkness within darkness. The gateway to all understanding.”

“The tape kept playing—Joel crooning through the rest of An Innocent Man, track by track—but I couldn’t tell you what came after “This Night.” I know the songs were there. I remember the faint hiss between sides, the click of the auto-reverse. But all I really remember… was her. The warmth of her skin. The featherlight touch of her fingers moving across me like she already knew what I didn’t have words for. The way her breath caught, not with hesitation, but with grace. That album played on, but in my memory, the rest is quiet. Only Kelly remained.”

“The tape measures and weighing scales of the Victorian brain scientists have been supplanted by powerful neuroimaging technologies, but there is still a lesson to be learned from historical examples such as these. State-of-the-art brain scanners offer us unprecedented information about the structure and working of the brain. But don't forget that, once, wrapping a tape measure around the head was considered modern and sophisticated, and it's important not to fall into the same old traps. As we'll see in later chapters, although certain popular commentators make it seem effortlessly easy, the sheer complexity of the brain makes interpreting and understanding the meaning of any sex differences we find in the brain a very difficult task. But the first, and perhaps surprising, issue in sex differences research is that of knowing which differences are real and which, like the intially promising cephalic index, are flukes or spurious.”

“The tapping grows insistent, and I turn, intending to tell off the Cadet. Instead, I'm faced with a slave-girl looking up at me through impossibly long eyelashes. A heated, visceral shock flares through me at the clarity of her dark gold eyes. For a second, I forget my name. I've never seen her before, because if I had, I'd remember. Despite the heavy silver cuffs and high, painful-looking bun that mark all of Blackcliff's drudges, nothing about her says slave. Her black dress fits her like a glove, sliding over every curve in a way that makes more than one head turn. Her full lips and fine, straight nose would be the envy of most girls, Scholar or not. I stare at her, realize I'm staring, tell myself to stop staring, and then keep staring. My breath falters, and my body, traitor that is, tugs me forward until there are only inches between us. “Asp-aspirant Veturius.” It's the way she says my name—like it's something to fear—that brings me back to myself. Pull it together, Veturius. I step away, appalled at myself when I see the terror in her eyes. “What is it?” I ask calmly.”

“The Tarahumara would party like this all night, then rouse themselves the next morning to face off in a running race that could last not two miles, not two hours, but two full days. According to the Mexican historian Francisco Almada, a Tarahumara champion once ran 435 miles, the equivalent of setting out for a jog in New York City and not stopping till you were closing in on Detroit.”

“The Taranis Cèilidh by Stewart Stafford Lightning's jagged spear, Burning the horizon bright, Silhouetting empty tables, No picnics by the waterside. Waves sloshed against jetties, A displaced bath on all sides, Flailing tree chorus genuflected, To the foaming vat beside them. The roar of the gale rose and fell, Tempest's tongue agitated potently, Leaves surrendered in droves to it, Sleep deepened in the storm's fury. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“The targets of this story are not wayward sinners but religious people who do everything the Bible requires. Jesus is pleading not so much with immoral outsiders as with moral insiders. H wants to show them their blindness, narrowness, and self righteousness, and how these things are destroying both their own souls and the lives of the people around them.”

“The tarot fascinated Mairead from the moment Gretchen brought her into her bedroom during a family party. In the bustling kitchen, she pushed Mairead's hair away from her ear and whispered Come see what I've got, then guided her down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. When the door was shut, Mairead saw the colorful cards, larger than playing cards, spread out on Gretchen's tie-dyed bedspread. If there is such a thing as love at first sight with an object, that's what Mairead experienced when she saw the cards. Each depicted colorful images decorated with mysterious symbols. All were equally attractive in her eyes and she immediately wanted to learn what every one of them represented. Tarot to Mairead was like an alternate universe she wanted to inhabit.”