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Mystical Quotes

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Mystical Quotes

“Fear has always been a very important whistleblower. Our emotion and our history can provoke fear that may arrest us at any time or at any place. Above and beyond, fear might be contagious and its scent, sometimes sensual, sometimes mystical or animal, can exude the musty and arcane smell of destiny. ("One could still feel the smell of fear" )”

“Who doesn’t want to feel bliss? We all do. But if it’s for reasons other than to experience heightened awareness, then we will continue to desperately desire bliss to fill a deep, gaping hole in our souls.”

“Twin flame love is raw, real and rare ~ it comes when we least expect, can't understand nor have the patience to accept it, than its gone & the true test of fate starts to play. A bond built amongst the stars can't be tampered by an earthly experience, trust the distance, twin flames always meet again.”

“The humanitarian philosophies that have been developed (sometimes under some religious banner and invariably in the face of religious opposition) are human inventions, as the name implies - and our species deserves the credit. I am a devout atheist - nothing else makes any sense to me and I must admit to being bewildered by those, who in the face of what appears so obvious, still believe in a mystical creator. However I can see that the promise of infinite immortality is a more palatable proposition than the absolute certainty of finite mortality which those of us who are subject to free thought (as opposed to free will) have to look forward to and many may not have the strength of character to accept it. Thus I am a supporter of Amnesty International, a humanist and an atheist. I believe in a secular, democratic society in which women and men have total equality, and individuals can pursue their lives as they wish, free of constraints - religious or otherwise. I feel that the difficult ethical and social problems which invariably arise must be solved, as best they can, by discussion and am opposed to the crude simplistic application of dogmatic rules invented in past millennia and ascribed to a plethora of mystical creators - or the latest invention; a single creator masquerading under a plethora of pseudonyms. Organisations which seek political influence by co-ordinated effort disturb me and thus I believe religious and related pressure groups which operate in this way are acting antidemocratically and should play no part in politics. I also have problems with those who preach racist and related ideologies which seem almost indistinguishable from nationalism, patriotism and religious conviction.”

“I navigated a couple of sharp curves and then saw another meaningless sign in Cyrillic, so I kept going. And then I was in the entrance of a tunnel. And then I was driving in the tunnel at fifty kilometers per hour and it was pitch-black all around. I was driving blind! I couldn’t see anything ahead or on either side of me. My stunned brain processed the fact that the first thing I had to do was to stop the bike, so I slowly braked while disengaging the gearbox. We passed the town of Katerini, where the road widened and had been improved with shoulders and guardrails along the waterside… I was just about to go to ninety kilometers per hour when we went around a curve and there, straight in front of us, was an enormous mountain with a snow cap. Charlie yelled, “Holy shit! Look at that!” I was awestruck. I knew it was Mt. Olympus, the tallest mountain in Greece and the home of the gods… “Where else could the gods have lived?” I asked.”

“The ferry left on time…. The splash of the waters and the rumble of the engine kept such a steady drumbeat that these sounds accentuated the silence around me. Maybe in Crete, Rhea, Mother Earth, would define my destiny but I insisted it wasn’t going to be what my parents were like. I watched the stars drift by until I dozed off.”

“As I wound my way up the mountain, the road began to perform multiple switchbacks like a snake in motion. I had to carefully maneuver through the 180-degree switchbacks at walking speed with one leg dangling off the side of the bike for balance or support, as needed. The road became steeper as it clung to the mountainside like a creeper vine. It was no more that twelve feet wide… Higher and higher the road went, but I didn’t look over the edge until I came to a switchback where I had to stop the bike to walk it through the curve. When I stood with the bike between my legs, I saw that I was less than five feet from what had to be an eight hundred-foot drop-off. There were no guardrails.”

“Beautiful women can be like dynamite,” (I said to Paul.)… “Now, now. There’s nothing wrong with dynamite if it’s treated right,” he said. It’s the men who go around with lighted matches that cause the trouble. By that, I mean they’ve got their dicks hanging out of their trousers all the time. You can see how that can be a  problem for the ladies?”

“As we discard a limited mind and a life of limitation to step into the grandness of vastness, we realize infinity itself to be the Guru and all that we do as grace. As we traverse through consciousness that is the Guru, we become the Guru and each thought of ours is perfect in the now, as scriptures. Consciousness is the Guru, the wisdom.”

“While there are already compilations on both Music5 and the Arts,6 numerous passages in the Writings refer to the Word of God as a melody. A search through the Bahá’í Writings reveals a multitude of passages where the Word of God is described as music being warbled by such creatures as the Mystic Dove, the Dove of Truth or of Utterance, the Nightingale of Paradise or of Holiness, the Bird of Heaven, of Eternity, or of Holiness, the Spirit of God, or sung by His wondrous, His sublime, His all-compelling, His clear, and most eloquent Voice.”

“By the time he was by her shores, it was the twilight hour And he stood witness to their blending in celestial communion His tired eyes beheld the amber of her blushes drip into her tresses And ripple in a gentle zephyr of his caresses In her ankles he saw the white frills of a long turquoise robe, Replete with the tinkling of her anklets Like the many dead whose ashes are dissolved in her waters, He emptied in her the remnants of his memories, so there remained no trace of his old self, Like a monk who does self-oblation, shunning all bondages of an insignificant past He wished to be reborn in the same life, a different man with a different name – A man with no yesterdays and no tomorrows”

“Ich habe viel Zeit in den Kellergewölben verbracht, nicht aus Überdruß an der Sonne oder plein air, ich verlor nur die Kontrolle über die Stunden und über das Leben, wenn ich mich so ausdrücken darf; ich verzichtete auf jene starren Definitionen des täglichen Lebens, die es erlauben, der natürlichen Wärme zu folgen oder einfach von der Sonne und den Elementen abzuhängen; ich lag oder ich stand aufrecht, oder ich lehnte nur an einer Wand in diesen feuchten Zimmern, den Schlafsälen meiner Ware, die emsig hin und her ging, die Blicke nach oben, zu den Gittern gerichtet. Zwischen Spaten, Trophäen und Splittern im Marmorabfall stehen die tönernen Gäste, die Schlingen knüpfen aus Schlaf, als wären es Mechelner Spitzen, sie segeln über die Wände, springen wir Kautschuk auf die Stufen aus Staub, steigen nach oben, zum Licht, sie steigen umsonst, gelangen zu nichts, nicht einmal zur Seligkeit oder zur Erschöpfung der Verzweiflung. Und wie in den Märchen kehrte ich nach oben zurück, schwer an Jahren.”

“Shayna lunged and swiped her sword just inches from Brigara's face. Brigara instinctively reacted by raising both hands to block the blade. The Book of Grimoire dropped to the floor. Brigara's eyes narrowed as she became aware that she'd been caught off guard. She scanned the room quickly, and her lips tightened as she returned her glare to meet Shayna's tear-filled eyes. Shayna's hands trembled, and the sword felt heavier than usual. She teetered slightly and blinked hard. Her heart was beating double time and ached in her chest. She gulped and told herself to stay steady. She struggled against the impulse that beckoned her to end the despised druid's life. "You killed Dreya! You're a miserable piece of trash!" Shayna shouted. Her mouth was dry, and she strained to fight back tears, but they spilled over. She repositioned her sword and aimed it at Brigara’s heart.”

“As I walked, I became aware of the strong odor of peonies and jasmine. I inhaled deeply to draw in the lovely bouquet. The scent was from the fresh flowers of a lush garden. The path opened into a courtyard, a tangle of peonies and jasmine framing the entrance, blooming in spectacular fashion. Silky petals brushed against my skin. The tension building in my neck and shoulders melted away as I entered a fairyland. The rustle of the night breeze joined the familiar voice of Teresa Teng echoing from invisible speakers. Beneath my feet, a path of moss-covered stones led to a circular platform surrounded by a large, shallow pond. The night garden was bursting with a palette of muted greens, starlit ivories, and sparkling golds: the verdant lichen and waxy lily pads in the pond, the snowy white peonies and jasmine flowers, and the metallic tones of the fireflies suspended in the air, the square-holed coins lining the floor of the pond, and the special golden three-legged creatures resting on the floating fronds. I knew these creatures from my childhood. The feng shui symbol of prosperity, Jin Chan was transformed into a golden toad for stealing the peaches of immortality. Jin Chan's three legs represented heave, earth, and humanity. Statues of him graced every Chinese home I had ever been in, for fortune was a visitor always in demand. Ma-ma had placed one near the stairs leading to the front door. The pond before me held eight fabled toads, each biting on a coin. If not for the subtle rise and fall of their vocal sacs, I would have thought them statues.”