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“Philosophiren, says Novalis, ist dephlegmatisiren vivificiren. The service of philosophy, of speculative culture, towards the human spirit is to rouse, to startle it into sharp and eager observation. Every moment some form grows perfect in hand or face; some tone on the hills or the sea is choicer than the rest; some mood of passion or insight or intellectual excitement is irresistibly real and attractive for us,—for that moment only. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end. A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated, dramatic life. How may we see in them all that is to be seen in them by the finest senses? How shall we pass most swiftly from point to point, and be present always at the focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in their purest energy? To burn always with this hard, gemlike flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life. In a sense it might even be said that our failure is to form habits: for, after all, habit is relative to a stereotyped world, and meantime it is only the roughness of the eye that makes any two persons, things, situations, seem alike. While all melts under our feet, we may well catch at any exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowledge that seems by a lifted horizon to set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange colours, and curious odours, or work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend. Not to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those about us, and in the brilliancy of their gifts some tragic dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day of frost and sun, to sleep before evening. With this sense of the splendour of our experience and of its awful brevity, gathering all we are into one desperate effort to see and touch, we shall hardly have time to make theories about the things we see and touch. What we have to do is to be for ever curiously testing new opinions and courting new impressions, never acquiescing in a facile orthodoxy of Comte, or of Hegel, or of our own. Philosophical theories or ideas, as points of view, instruments of criticism, may help us to gather up what might otherwise pass unregarded by us. "Philosophy is the microscope of thought." The theory or idea or system which requires of us the sacrifice of any part of this experience, in consideration of some interest into which we cannot enter, or some abstract theory we have not identified with ourselves, or what is only conventional, has no real claim upon us.”

PhilosophyLivingLive
Book:The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry
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“I was a woman strung together with glitter and wishes. A midnight apparition cast in the coldest winters. I would not be here tomorrow. But tonight I would drink champagne until my veins ran in golden, bubbling streams. I would dance until the ice in my heart melted. Kiss until my lips bruised. And I would live until it hurt.”

LivingLiveLiving In The MomentM A KuzniarUpon A Frosted StarDettaOdette LakelySwan LakeApparitionMaking Life Count
Author:M. A. Kuzniar
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“It is not everyone who dies that actually lived. And of those who live, only a few are alive. Those who live get to make a living from doing what they love or don't love to do. But those who are alive, they give to make a life from being who they were meant to be. So live, know, do and get - if you only want to make a living. But be alive, be wise, become and give - if you really want to make a life.”

LoveLifeWisdomKnowledgeAliveLivingLiveOnigegearaMake A LivingMake A Life
Author:Olaotan Fawehinmi
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“I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.”

LoveLifeWritingMindHeartSaidPoetryLove QuotesMistakeWifeWrittenPoemDrinkHusbandLivingFingersLipsBreatheFoolishAbsurdFinanceGirlfriendLiveLoverLovingMistakenToesSoulmateOne LoveLungsWriteBoyfriendKamandKojouriFeelKamand KojouriIn LoveTouchEverythingLove PoemsWalkPartnerSenseMouthFingertipsGoUnwrittenLove Is All You NeedMatePenYou And MeWriting PoemsLove Is LoveChestLove WinsYou And IMe And YouEverywhereFianceeSenseless
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“Whenever you are angry, take a beautiful object in your house and smash it to pieces. The pity you feel for what you have done is silly compared to what you are doing to your mind: taking a sacred moment to be alive and desecrating it by being angry.”

LifeMindBeautifulHousePeaceConsciousnessBeautyPiecesAliveAwarenessMovementLivingMindfulnessConsciousAngerAngrySacredCalmSillySurrenderPityPeacefulUpsetLiveSerenityPresentCalmnessKamandKojouriKamand KojouriMindfulSereneTranquilAnger ManagementPeacefulnessAwareAnger QuotesBeing AliveObjectAt PeaceSenselessMind Over MatterComparedSmashDesecratingDesecrate
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. For as there are billions of different stars that make up the sky so, too, are there billions of different humans that make up the Earth. Some shine brighter but all are made of the same cosmic dust. O the joy of being in life with all these people! I speak of differences because they are there. Like the different organs that make up our bodies. Earth, itself, is one large body. Listen to how it howls when one human is in misery. When one kills another, the Earth feels the pang in its chest. When one orgasms, the Earth craves a cigarette. Look carefully, these animals are beauty spots that make the Earth’s face lovelier and more loveable. These oceans are the Earth’s limpid eyes. These trees, its hair. This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. I will no longer speak of differences, for the similarities are larger. Look even closer. There may be distances between our limbs but there are no spaces between our hearts. We long to be one. We long to be in nature and to run wild with its wildlife. Let us celebrate life and living, for it is sacrilegious to be ungrateful. Let us play and be playful, for it is sacrilegious to be serious. Let us celebrate imperfections and make existence proud of us, for tomorrow is death, and this is an ode to life. The anthem of the world.”

PeopleWorldLoveLifeHumansCountryPlayBodyTodayEarthBeautifulSpiritualDeathJoySufferingHumanitySpiritualityStarsPeaceNatureDifferencesSpaceUnitedExistenceBeautySkySeriousHairProudTomorrowLivingAppreciateHarmonyGratefulDistanceMiseryUnityDustCelebrateOnenessBelovedLiveCosmicAnimalsEyesOrgansPresentCigaretteLoverAnguishTreesPersonLimbsTogethernessCitySeriousnessNationWildlifeKamandKojouriKillKamand KojouriListenNowWildUngratefulHowlShineLookUnionAnthemSufferOrgasmPeacefulnessBodiesImperfectionsOceansOne WorldPlayfulChestSacrilegeSacrilegiousCloserBillionOdeSimilaritiesSeasLife PoemsSpotUnappreciativeLoveablePangLovelierCelebration Poems
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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