Bangkok Buddha Quotes

You don't understand. I only prostitute the part of the body that isn't important, and nobody suffers except my karma a little bit. I don't do big harm. You prostitute your mind. Mind is seat of Buddha. What you do is very very bad. You should not use your mind in that way

I don't want enlightenment, I want him. Sorry Buddha, I loved him more than you.

Here’s why the life of Muhammad [and Jesus] matters: Contrary to what many secularists would have us believe, religions are not entirely determined (or distorted) by the faithful over time. The lives and words of the founders remain central, no matter how long ago they lived. The idea that believers shape religion is derived, instead, from the fashionable 1960s philosophy of deconstructionism, which teaches that written words have no meaning other than that given to them by the reader. Equally important, it follows that if the reader alone finds meaning, there can be no truth (and certainly no religious truth); one person’s meaning is equal to another’s. Ultimately, according to deconstructionism, we all create our own set of “truths,” none better, or worse than any other. Yet for the religious man or woman on the streets of Chicago, Rome, Jerusalem, Damascus, Calcutta, and Bangkok, the words of Jesus, Moses, Muhammad, Krishna, and Buddha mean something far greater than any individual’s rendering of them. And even to the less-than-devout reader, the words of these great religious leaders are clearly not equal in their meaning.

I am moonlighting for the Buddha.

The Grahamites who preach on the streets of Bangkok all talk of their Holy Bible and its stories of salvation. Their stories of Noah Bodhisattva, who saved all the animals and trees and flowers on his great bamboo raft and helped them cross the waters, all the broken pieces of the world piled atop his raft while he hunted for land. But there is no Noah Bodhisattva now. There is only Phra Seub who feels the pain of loss but can do little to stop it, and the little mud Buddhas of the Environment Ministry, who hold back rising waters by barest luck.

Buddhism was too subtle for him then, as it is today. To the evolved mind of the Gautama Buddha, any desire was an obscene distortion, even the desire for God. Mustafa is one of those passionate souls who were made for Islam, the warrior religion.

The gardens surrounding the palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha were spectacularly beautiful, full of vibrant colors, the smell of jasmine pervading everything. Harry stopped in front of an exquisite flowering plant with delicate blooms of soft pink and white. "Orchids," he murmured. "They grew in the foliage around Changi, and I've seen them everywhere since I arrived in Bangkok. They are rare in England." "They are like weeds here," said Lidia. "Golly! I wish we had weeds at home like this," Harry said, thinking he must take some back to his mother.

Khun Mae went to bed past midnight. After a few minutes, her mouth opened. Her hair was a dark cloud on the pillow. Up and up, she drifted above her bed, through the white mosquito nets, until she was as light as a sea bird. She drifted through the open flap of her window, into the balmy night air. Through the rainstorm, she flew, over the city of Bangkok and its blurry lights, until the stars themselves, guided this bird on her journey into the mountains, and above Tham Luang cave.

Khun Mae went to bed past midnight. After a few minutes, her mouth opened. Her hair was a dark cloud on the pillow. Up and up, she drifted above her bed, through the white mosquito nets, until she was as light as a sea bird. She drifted through the open flap of her window, into the balmy night air. Through the rainstorm, she flew, over the city of Bangkok and its blurry lights, until the stars themselves guided this bird on her journey into the mountains, and above Tham Luang cave.

Khun Mae went to bed past midnight. After a few minutes, her mouth opened. Her hair was a dark cloud on the pillow. Up and up, she drifted above her bed, through the white mosquito nets, until she was as light as a sea bird. She drifted through the open flap of her window, into the balmy night air. Through the rainstorm, she flew, over the city of Bangkok and its blurry lights, until the stars themselves, guided this bird on her journey into the mountains, and above Tham Luang cave.