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Human Experience Quotes

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Human Experience Quotes

“Ah, My poor boy! You can't fight fate - did I neglect to teach you that? People cannot choose where, when and into what conditions they are born. From the moment of birth, each person must live on life's terms. The world is cruel. But that's only natural. We begin life as a chemical reaction... The soul non-existent... The mind merely synaptic sparks... Human existence but a shadow of memory and information. We live alone, as we must - in a godless, merciless world... and yet... we LIVE! That is the SECRET of FREE WILLl! It may be inevitable that, so young, you buckled under the burden of the world's karma. You may aspire to good! You may aspire to evil! You may grope to find your path! But, unless you are ALIVE... ...well, my boy - unless you are alive, no talent will ever bear fruit!”

“You don't have to have shared a placenta with someone to sense their pain. Some would say that empathy is what makes us human. But I think empathy was here, an intuition. The thrumming awareness that we are all connected to the smallest speck, the most distant stars, by the great umbilicus of the solar system, the orbits tossing and tearing us with the force of the tides. When we pay attention to things like parasites and the moon, we are paying attention to the fact that we are citizens of the universe. Most of being human is an effort to forget.”

“It's a funny thing about being alone. You never really notice it when it's happening. You're aware that nobody else is there, but [...] as with wading into cold water, you acclimate to the relative solitude until it doesn't even bother you anymore. You don't realize that your hands and toes have grown numb until there is a sudden burst of warmth that sends needles through your extremities.”

“We are told that in translation there is no such thing as equivalence. Many times the translator reaches a fork in the translating road where they must make a choice in the interpretation of a word. And each time they make one of these choices, they are taken further from the truth. But what we aren’t told is that this isn’t a shortcoming of translation; it’s a shortcoming of language itself. As soon as we try to put reality into words, we limit it. Words are not reality, they are the cause of reality, and thus reality is always more. Writers aren't alchemists who transmute words into the aurous essence of the human experience. No, they are glassmakers. They create a work of art that enables us to see inside to help us understand. And if they are really good, we can see our own reflections staring back at us.”

“One must be present, fully and deeply, in the garden of the now. In this state of presence, the ego’s chatter can be heard, acknowledged, and understood for what it is – not the entirety of our being, but a part of our human experience. It is in this mindful acknowledgment that the ego is gently guided to take its rightful place as a servant to the essence, no longer the master of our destinies.”

“I drifted on life’s waves — from love to hate, from hate to a love learned the hard way.” — Angelika Regossi, My Thousand Words series, Magyarul mint oroszul: 1000 szó magyarázattal (По-венгерски как по-русски: 1000 слов с пояснениями)”

“People whose religions commit them to the existence of the afterlife feel the terror of death just as anyone else does, nor are they spared the wrenching pain of loss. They do not respond to their loved one's death as though the loved one has moved to a place where they can't contact them for a while but expect to later rejoin them. They might say that is how they see the situation, but their profound sorrow and their mourning practices point in a different direction.”

“Girl dancer! Oh you shifting Of all that passes into steps: how you manage that! And the eddy at the end, a tree made from a vortex, Does it not take full possession of the swirling year? And the tip of your tree, does it not blossom Quietly above you, from your spinning? Is it not Your limitless warmth, the sun, The summer, its heat? But your tree of ecstasy bears, Gives quiet fruit: the flagon streaked with ripeness, And the vase riper still.”