Mystical Moon Quotes

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Woman is the most superstitious animal beneath the moon. When a woman has a premonition that Tuesday will be a disaster, to which a man pays no heed, he will very likely lose his fortune then. This is not meant to be an occult or mystic remark. The female body is a vessel, and the universe drops its secrets into her far more quickly than it communicates them to the male.
Edward Dahlberg
Like the moon shining bright Up high with all its grace, I can only show you at night And hide half of my face.
Ana Claudia Antunes (Pierrot & Columbine (The Pierrot´s Love Book 1))
At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.
Edgar Allan Poe
Love, be mystical as the flickering blue flame of night as the fully-awoken moon beneath cobwebs of passing clouds amidst chanting high-tides fuzzy, as my blanket big enough to illuminate a hundred thousand billion galaxies and just small enough to fit into my embrace.
Sanober Khan (Turquoise Silence)
I was wedded to all the stars of the sky.There was not a single star left, and I married every one of them with great spiritual pleasure. Then I married the moon.
Ibn 'Arabi
WINTER'S GHOST: Autumn moon incautious in the dark river Winter’s ghost walks with a covered face and silver bones wait in all animals to be bone cloth upon her shoulder wait for her happiness in that they are silver
Tamara Rendell (Mystical Tides)
you are here. the moontides are here. and that’s all that matters.
Sanober Khan
Perhaps all women are part faerie, for what woman can deny her faerie blood when the portals to her own land are open; when the full moon sings its insistent song; when sorrow and passion and rage pulse through her body at moon times. This is why women are the chosen ones of Faerie, pat of the vibrant, fluid, emotional soul of the world…
Brian Froud (Brian Froud's World of Faerie)
Then Rico said, “Okay, like. No offense, papi. You know I love you. Bros for life, and all that. But did you go a little nuts in your head from the mystical moon magic? Because it seems like you went a little nuts in your head from the mystical moon magic.
T.J. Klune (Ravensong (Green Creek, #2))
Marco could not have known about the mystical effect of a full moon on cats and books left on their own in the library. Not until he saw the lines breathe, the words unveiled.
Rahma Krambo (Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria)
Many years ago, plunging was discovered when the moon was in two halves- it's all about dreams, you see
William O'Brien (Peter: A Darkened Fairytale)
The gentle pulsing and flickering of stars and nebulae made a kind of music, a sweet easy mesh of whispered tones and sighing harmonies that held him in its force like the earth [holding] the moon.
Aberjhani (Songs from the Black Skylark zPed Music Player)
Dreams are like the old stories where wolves are seekers always running, and women carry fire in their bare hands and light the dark paths before them. Old stories hold that the birds will fly all the miles of the world to tell your secrets to the rising moon, and men will walk over oceans of ice to find one truth.
Tamara Rendell (Mystical Tides)
Trust what is not known to your Mind. Trust what is known to your Heart.
Tony Samara
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot, Down from the shower’d halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard, From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears, From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist, From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease, From the myriad thence-arous’d words, From the word stronger and more delicious than any, From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing, Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly, A man—yet by these tears a little boy again, Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves, I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter, Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them, A reminiscence sing.
Walt Whitman (Song of Myself)
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars Inside the church, the saints will all be blue, Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.
Sylvia Plath
My Salome is a mystic the sister of Salammbô a Saint Thérèse who worships the moon.
Oscar Wilde
At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top,
Edgar Allan Poe (Edgar Allan Poe's Complete Poetical Works)
The practice is simple. Whatever you're doing, do that with total awareness.
Tony Samara
The soft moonlight, The shimmering sky, The rays of the moon, and Bunch of sparkling stars.
Jyoti Patel (The Mystic Soul)
When we understand that Peace is a state of mind we understand true Peace.
Tony Samara
I always think there is a mystical understanding between the moon and the street, like between two sisters who have grown old together and no longer need any language to communicate with each other.
Tove Ditlevsen (Childhood / Youth / Dependency (The Copenhagen Trilogy, #1-3))
When you deeply love someone from that space that is beyond attachment to certain projections or desires, when you love someone just deeply, totally, completely, without any games that the mind or emotions play, then that love remains eternal in the heavens forever, and that is what pulls you back to remembering that love.
Tony Samara
The Beloved is Always There, Actively Seeking You.
Tony Samara
I imagined that my own life was simple and sweet, and sometimes it was, but there were odd things going around town. There were rumors. There were stories. Everything was unmentionable but nothing was unimaginable. This mystical flirtation with the idea of “sin"–this sense that it was possible to go "too far”, and that many people were doing it–this was very much with us in Los Angeles in 1968 and 1969. A demented and seductive vortical tension was building in the community. The jitters were setting in. I recall a time when the dogs barked every night and the moon was always full.
Joan Didion (The White Album)
Mademoiselle De Lafontaine – in right of her father, who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical and something of a mystic – now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people; it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. Mademoiselle related that here cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship, having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his face full in the light of the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.
J. Sheridan Le Fanu (Carmilla)
Satisfaction doesn't come from needs and desires or fulfilling them, it comes from being yourself, being true.
Tony Samara
The activity of loving kindness is the bridge that allows you to slowly, slowly realise the wisdom and perfection of this moment.
Tony Samara
The Moon, a white basket for my prayers
Tamara Rendell (Mystical Tides)
I became totally absorbed into this forest existence. It was an unparalleled period when aloneness was a way of life; a perfect opportunity, it might seem, for meditating on the meaning of existence and my role in it all. But I was far too busy learning about the chimpanzees'lives to worry about the meaning of my own. I had gone to Gombe to accomplish a specific goal, not to pursue my early preoccupation with philosophy and religion. Nevertheless, those months at Gombe helped to shape the person I am today-I would have been insensitive indeed if the wonder and the endless fascination of my new world had not had a major impact on my thinking. All the time I was getting closer to animals and nature, and as a result, closer to myself and more and more in tune with the spiritual power that I felt all around. For those who have experienced the joy of being alone with nature there is really little need for me to say much more; for those who have not, no words of mine can even describe the powerful, almost mystical knowledge of beauty and eternity that come, suddenly, and all unexpected. The beauty was always there, but moments of true awareness were rare. They would come, unannounced; perhaps when I was watching the pale flush preceding dawn; or looking up through the rustling leaves of some giant forest tree into the greens and browns and the black shadows and the occasionally ensured bright fleck of blue sky; or when I stood, as darkness fell, with one hand on the still warm trunk of a tree and looked at the sparkling of an early moon on the never still, softly sighing water of Lake Tanganyika.
Jane Goodall
do you dare to step in- to the vulnerable black, stripped to the soul with human blindness – when the full and weeping moon steps from the shade of a tumult of mountains – when, in the fragrant dim, day's tree stump transforms into some nether-worldly other – when time's skin is thin and you are bared – when there is nothing between you and the Wildest One whose name is your own?
Beth Morey (Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul)
Love? What is it? The most natural painkiller what there is.” You may become curious, though, about what happened to that painkiller should depression take hold and expose your love—whatever its object—as just one of the many intoxicants that muddled your consciousness of the human tragedy. You may also want to take a second look at whatever struck you as a person, place, or thing of “beauty,” a quality that lives only in the neurotransmitters of the beholder. (Aesthetics? What is it? A matter for those not depressed enough to care nothing about anything, that is, those who determine almost everything that is supposed to matter to us. Protest as you like, neither art nor an aesthetic view of life are distractions granted to everyone.) In depression, all that once seemed beautiful, or even startling and dreadful, is nothing to you. The image of a cloud-crossed moon is not in itself a purveyor of anything mysterious or mystical; it is only an ensemble of objects represented to us by our optical apparatus and perhaps processed as a memory.
Thomas Ligotti (The Conspiracy Against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror)
As long as man was in the moolight he desired to reach the moon…there was bliss in the moonlight but the moon itself was distant. Moonlight was near but man longed for the moon…man reached the moon but there he was without moonlight. If one reaches the moon one does not find moonlight any longer and if one is in moonlight one does not find the moon. It is a strange fact that one is only because of the other…one is a sign of the other yet both are forever separate. If the Beloved is the Moon, moonlight is His remembrance. When the Beloved is present His remembrance is not and when His remembrance is present the Beloved is not. Proximity to one is distance from the other, Union with one is separation from the other. Thus union is hidden in every separation and separation in every union.
Wasif Ali Wasif
If you catch a glimpse of this brightness, you will set sleep afire: for by night-faring and servitude Venus became the companion of the moon گر بو بری زین روشنی ، آتش به خواب اندر زنی / کز شبروی و بندگی زهره حریف ماه شد
Rumi (Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi) (Mystical Poems of Rumi)
The Divine has created this moment in time. It is a very powerful moment, where there is only one way and that way is that you completely let go. Completely let go of what is known, what is safe, and move into the space of beauty.
Tony Samara
To Selene (Moon) Hear, Goddess queen, diffusing silver light, bull-horn'd and wand'ring thro' the gloom of Night. With stars surrounded, and with circuit wide Night's torch extending, thro' the heav'ns you ride: Female and Male with borrow'd rays you shine, and now full-orb'd, now tending to decline. Mother of ages, fruit-producing Moon [Mene], whose amber orb makes Night's reflected noon: Lover of horses, splendid, queen of Night, all-seeing pow'r bedeck'd with starry light. Lover of vigilance, the foe of strife, in peace rejoicing, and a prudent life: Fair lamp of Night, its ornament and friend, who giv'st to Nature's works their destin'd end. Queen of the stars, all-wife Diana hail! Deck'd with a graceful robe and shining veil; Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright, come moony-lamp with chaste and splendid light, Shine on these sacred rites with prosp'rous rays, and pleas'd accept thy suppliant's mystic praise.
Orpheus
The riot had taken on a beauty of its own now. Arcs of gasoline fire under the crescent moon. Crimson tracer in mystical parabolas. Phosphorescence from the barrels of plastic bullet guns. A distant yelling like that of men below decks in a torpedoed prison ship. The scarlet whoosh of Molotovs intersecting with exacting surfaces. Helicopters everywhere: their spotlights finding one another like lovers in the Afterlife. And all this through a lens of oleaginous Belfast rain.
Adrian McKinty (The Cold Cold Ground (Detective Sean Duffy, #1))
As you embrace Consciousness, you embrace Perfection.
Tony Samara
Everything is temporary but the power of Love is Infinite because it is the space, it is Everything.
Tony Samara
Wisdom is a true activity of compassion. And so, meditation is the act of loving kindness. It is the activity where loving kindness is applied on all levels.
Tony Samara
Spiritual practice is allowing the temple (your body) to be full of light and to live life as a total celebration.
Tony Samara
Women are at their most powerful during menstruation, connected to life-giving forces. The reason we don’t use traditional medicines and we’re not around ceremonial fires during this time is that we carry our own medicine and fire within. Others may act as if it’s something annoying or unclean, but even the way we refer to menstruation is respectful. Your Moon is a mighty time.
Angeline Boulley (Firekeeper's Daughter)
The next time you stand on a beach at night, watching the moon’s bright path across the water, and the conscious of the moon-drawn tides, remember that the moon itself may have been born of a great tidal wave of earthly substance, torn off into space. And remember if the moon was formed in this fashion, the event may have had much to do with shaping the ocean basins and the continents as we know them.
Rachel Carson (The Sea Around Us)
THE MOON AND THE YEW TREE This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God, Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility. Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place Separated from my house by a row of headstones. I simply cannot see where there is to get to. The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection. At the end, they soberly bong out their names. The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape. The eyes lift after it and find the moon. The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes. I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering Blue and mystical over the face of the stars. Inside the church, the saints will be all blue, Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness -- blackness and silence. --written 22 October 1961
Sylvia Plath (Ariel)
The night! When the outside world is hiding in darkness, you have to turn on the light within in order to see where you put your steps.
Irina Serban (Hiding the Moon)
Look for her not in the valleys below, nor in the temple rooms. For she has gone, gone into the high passes, far beyond this dying moon.
Rebecca Carson (Mysterious Vortex)
Once, she had taken love for granted. Never again. Love was the sun and the moon and the stars in a world that was otherwise cold and dark.
Kristin Hannah (On Mystic Lake)
The natural consequence of being connected to the depth, what I call the soul, or your essence, is the attribute of joy.
Tony Samara
The way to Bliss is through Understanding, through Wisdom.
Tony Samara
As night falls on the ruins, the full moon emerges, adding an extraordinary mysticism to the ruins' extraordinary beauty!
Mehmet Murat ildan
The glamorous splender of a mystical moon.. Natures sleepless wonders.
Shamima Mulla
I'd never been on the beach at that hour; it was mystical, deserted. The sky was perfectly clear and the moon was a spotlight illuminated just for us, lighting up the water, turning it into a giant sheet of glass. The tide was calm; it flowed in and out in a slow rhythm, like lovers.
Tiffanie DeBartolo (God-Shaped Hole)
It's the mystical moon magic,' Tanner said. He was behind my, near my head, leaning over me and studying my face. 'Makes you do dumb things like killing deer and running away to chase after a piece of ass.
T.J. Klune (Brothersong (Green Creek, #4))
My heart is taken by you and these mornings since I am a horse running towards a cracked sky where there are countless dawns breaking simultaneously. There are two moons on the horizon and for you I have broken loose.
Joy Harjo (She Had Some Horses)
A keen observation shows that the whole universe is a single mechanism working by the law of rhythm; the rise and fall of the waves, the ebb and flow of the tide, the waxing and waning of the moon, the sunrise and the sunset, the change of the seasons, the moving of the earth and of the planets, the whole cosmic system and the constitution of the entire universe are working under the law of rhythm. Cycles of rhythm, with major and minor cycles
Hazrat Inayat Khan (The Mysticism of Music, Sound and Word (The Sufi Teachings of Hazrat Inayat Khan Book 2))
For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heartwoes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not blue the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and the softcymballing, round the harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers.
Herman Melville
He had dreamt about a dark-haired foreign boy. This boy held the key to the undoing of their demise. He had carried his curse for too long. Time was short, the alignment was coming. The vivid dream had spoken to him about Florence. As the sun overshadowed the top of the open-air coliseum, the light briefly hit his three golden symbols. He would need to cover them before he was spotted. Glancing around, he found what he needed. He rolled through the mud until he was coated. On the outside, he was Celestial KittyCat — a black, scrappy, alley cat with a golden brand on his side. A brand of a sun, a star, and a moon all in alignment. On the inside, he was still Patrick, and his heart still yearned for CallaLyly. He scowled as he thought about the curse that was planted by a mystic from the Far East over two and a half centuries ago.
Mary K. Savarese (The Girl In The Toile Wallpaper (The Star Writers Trilogy #1))
Raised eyebrows , Is she a billet ? The smile, a natural born sniper? The lips, a CPR the mystic needs Aura, like the moon during the day Nous, like an exclamation mark with a purpose Not an ordinary mortal she is but an incantatory healing power
Kshanasurya
Remember meditation is an active, deep remembrance, and that is discernment. Wherever you go, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, remember to utilize discernment so that you can hear and sense and feel the vibration of love rather than the vibration of illusion.
Tony Samara
Do not stir the clay every moment, so that your water may become clear, so that your dregs may be illumined, so that your pains may be cured. If you look into muddy water, you see neither the moon nor the sky; sun and moon both disappear when darkness possesses the air.
Rumi (Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi) (Mystical Poems of Rumi)
MYSTIC WARRIOR I’ve fought side by side with him through the centuries He holds the sword that doubles rainbows He negotiates with the moon Racing with the wind He annihilates all my demons He resuscitates my fallen battle horse Gallops next to me back to the front of the line and reminds me that courage must be in my every step in order to win for just an inkling of terror in the heart is the strategy of loss and to stay alive is to further one’s destiny but one has to struggle beyond simple existence to attain the outcome of fulfillment Excerpt: Soulmates by Sondra Faye
Sondra Faye (Soulmates)
God was something I did not understand the way kids who went to church did. They said God was a man in the sky with white hair and a beard like Santa. This seemed strange to me. When I thought of God, I imagined only mist over the pond, a sliver of moon in a dark sky, scatterings of stars, birdsong.
Melissa Coleman (This Life Is in Your Hands: One Dream, Sixty Acres, and a Family Undone)
In one of the verses of Lal Ded, or Lalla, a fourteenth-century mystic from Kashmir, Lalla says: “At the end of a crazy-moon night the love of God rose. I said “It’s me, Lalla.” “It’s me, Lalla,” becomes “It’s me…whoever you are,” proclaiming that we no longer stand on the sidelines but are leaping directly into the center of our lives, our truth, our full potential. No one can take that leap for us; and no one has to. This is our journey of faith.
Sharon Salzberg (Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience)
A vision of the Shining One swirling into our world, a monstrous, glorious flaming pillar of incarnate, eternal Evil--of people passing through its radiant embrace into that hideous, unearthly life-in-death which I had seen enfold the sacrifices--of armies trembling into dancing atoms of diamond dust beneath the green ray's rhythmic death--of cities rushing out into space upon the wings of that other demoniac force which Olaf had watched at work--of a haunted world through which the assassins of the Dweller's court stole invisible, carrying with them every passion of hell--of the rallying to the Thing of every sinister soul and of the weak and the unbalanced, mystics and carnivores of humanity alike; for well I knew that, once loosed, not any nation could hold the devil-god for long and that swiftly its blight would spread!
A. Merritt (The Moon Pool (Dr. Goodwin #1))
Where ego comes in, loving kindness departs. So wherever there is ego, there is very little space for true bliss and true happiness because true bliss and true happiness isn't exclusive to the attachments the ego enjoys playing with, but rather a free state of mind that is part of loving kindness and its activities inside and outside of oneself.
Tony Samara
Read this warning. Take this heed. If not yours, you may not read. Once you do begin to read, your eyes will itch, burn, and bleed. So mote it be.
Teresa Joyce Jackson (Dead Moon Awakens (Mystic Gates #1))
Well, when it comes down to it, even the mystics want to touch the moon and the physicists can’t explain the elliptical orbits away.
Kenning JP Garcia (Enter the After-Garde Selections from 1998-2010)
Mystic grimoirs, walking corpses... I'm so far out of my wheelhouse that I might as well be on the moon.
Mark Waid (Daredevil, Volume 7)
I found comfort in knowing we were under the same moon, wishing on stars that were making dreams out of us too.
Nikki Rowe
No matter how hard you stare into muddy water, you will not see the moon or the sun.
Rumi (Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi) (Rumi: The Big Red Book: The Great Masterpiece Celebrating Mystical Love and Friendship)
Love was the sun and the moon and the stars in a world that was otherwise cold and dark.
Kristin Hannah (On Mystic Lake)
I wished for a magic, Under the skyline. The moon lost it's gleam, And told me to watch him.
Jyoti Patel (The Mystic Soul)
swimming in the ocean leads to the shore, Flying in space leads to the moon, walking in Life leads to success
Naimish Gandhi (The Mystical Mark: A supernatural detective story)
And I knew that as long as I responded, in both a physical and mystical way, to the natural world-sea, sun, earth, moon and stars-I would never feel lonely upon this planet.
Ruskin Bond
The moon’s three phases of new, full, and old recalled the matriarch’s three phases of maiden, nymph (nubile woman), and crone. Then, since the sun’s annual course similarly recalled the rise and decline of her physical powers – spring a maiden, summer a nymph, winter a crone – the goddess became identified with seasonal changes in animal and plant life; and thus with Mother Earth who, at the beginning of the vegetative year, produces only leaves and buds, then flowers and fruits, and at last ceases to bear. She could later be conceived as yet another triad: the maiden of the upper air, the nymph of the earth or sea, the crone of the underworld – typified respectively by Selene, Aphrodite, and Hecate. These mystical analogues fostered the sacredness of the number three, and the Moon-goddess became enlarged to nine when each of the three persons – maiden, nymph, and crone – appeared in triad to demonstrate her divinity. Her devotees never quite forgot that there were not three goddesses, but one goddess; though, by Classical times, Arcadian Stymphalus was one of the few remaining shrines where they all bore the same name: Hera.
Robert Graves (The Greek Myths: The Complete and Definitive Edition)
What about those of us who just don’t fit in, who feel as if we were born on the Wrong Planet, or in the wrong time period? Where did we come from? Is this a whole counter-culture that’s new to the planet, moving us forward? Have we finally reached the Age of Aquarius? Is it now! Is the moon in the seventh house? Has Jupiter finally aligned with Mars? And are we right now getting ready to see mystic crystal revelation where love will steer the stars? Afraid not. There have always been people who see the world differently from everyone else. And there always will be. If you’re one of the ‘chosen ones’ then you come from a long line of Gypsies, tramps and thieves, of rebels and revolutionaries, of pagans, infidels and sceptics. This is your heritage, and you have much to be proud of
Karl Wiggins (Wrong Planet - Searching for your Tribe)
...Would you like to know the view I have out of my window, since you love snow? So here you are: the broad whiteness of the Moldau, and along that whiteness, little black silhouettes of people cross from one shore to the other, like musical notes. For example, the figure of some boy is dragging behind him a D-sharp: a sledge. Across the river there are snowy roofs in a distant, lightweight sky... I walked around the cathedral along a slippery path between snowdrifts. The snow was light, dry: grab a handful, throw it up, and it disperses in the air like dust, as if flying back up. The sky darkened. In it appeared a thin golden moon: half of a broken halo. I walked along the edge of the fortress wall. Old Prague lay below in the thickening mist. The snowy roofs clustered together, cumbrous and dim. The houses seemed to have been piled anyhow, in a moment of terrible and fantastic carelessness. In this frozen storm of outlines, in this snowy semi-darkness, the streetlamps and windows were burning with a warm and sweet lustre, like well-licked punch lollipops. In just one place you could also see a little scarlet light, a drop of pomegranate juice. And in the fog of crooked walls and smoky corners I divined an ancient ghetto, mystical ruins, the alley of Alchemists...
Vladimir Nabokov (Letters to Vera)
The one created thing which we cannot look at is the one thing in the light of which we look at everything. Like the sun at noonday, mysticism explains everything else by the blaze of its own victorious invisibility. Detached intellectualism is (in the exact sense of a popular phrase) all moonshine; for it is light without heat, and it is secondary light, reflected from a dead world. But the Greeks were right when they made Apollo the god both of imagination and of sanity; for he was both the patron of poetry and the patron of healing. Of necessary dogmas and a special creed I shall speak later. But that transcendentalism by which all men live has primarily much the position of the sun in the sky. We are conscious of it as of a kind of splendid confusion; it is something both shining and shapeless, at once a blaze and a blur. But the circle of the moon is as clear and unmistakable, as recurrent and inevitable, as the circle of Euclid on a blackboard. For the moon is utterly reasonable; and the moon is the mother of lunatics and has given to them all her name.
G.K. Chesterton (Orthodoxy)
Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right; Laugh, heart, again in the gray twilight, Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the moon. Your mother Eire is always young, Dew ever shining and twilight gray; Though hope fall from you and love decay, Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue. Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill: For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And river and stream work out their will; And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight; And love is less kind than the gray twilight, And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.
W.B. Yeats
For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heartwoes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not belie the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and soft-cymballing, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birthmark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers.
Herman Melville (Moby-Dick or, The Whale)
You could have gone dark side," Tanner said. "Like full-on Darth Gordo," Chris said. Gordo put his face in his hands. "I told you guys, I'm a witch. I'm not a Jedi." "Um, excuse me," Rico said. "Can you or can you not shoot Force lightning from your fingertips." "It's not Force--" "We rest our case," Tanner said quite loudly. “The humans feel the bond, too?” Gordo asked Elizabeth and Mark. “Curious isn’t it,” Elizabeth said, smiling faintly. “I dare say even extraordinary.” “It’s because of OX,” Mark said. “And all that he is. He responded to the territory’s need for an Alpha. And the pack’s desire for one. He grew up here.” Everyone turned to stare at me. “Mystical moon magic,” Jessie whispered. I tried not to squirm under the attention. “It’s not--” “It makes sense,” Gordo said thoughtfully. “Mystical moon magic makes sense?” I asked incredulously. Gordo rolled his eyes. “No. idiot. It’s not mystical mo--I’m not even going to say that.
T.J. Klune (Wolfsong (Green Creek, #1))
Each in His Own Tongue A fire mist and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jellyfish and a saurian, And caves where the cave men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty, And a face turned from the clod — Some call it Evolution, And others call it God. A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high; And all over upland and lowland The charm of the goldenrod — Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God. Like tides on a crescent sea beach, When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in; Come from the mystic ocean, Whose rim no foot has trod — Some of us call it Longing, And others call it God. A picket frozen on duty, A mother starved for her brood, Socrates drinking the hemlock, And Jesus on the rood; And millions who, humble and nameless, The straight, hard pathway plod — Some call it Consecration, And others call it God.
William Herbert Carruth
There is something almost religious about the call of the sea, the connection we feel that transcends the mundanity of daily existence. It simultaneously reminds us of our smallness and our interconnected- ness. It awakens within us the eye of the artist, the voice of the poet, the soul of the mystic. It reignites an awareness that beyond this lies something vaster. The water, pulled by the moon, ever-moving but ever-remaining, seems to speak to something elemental within us in ways we can barely find expression for, yet find ourselves driven to try, nonetheless. It has inspired storytellers, artists and musicians of many cultures and genders throughout history. The sea sings through us…if we let her…as we in turn channel ourselves through her.
Lucy H. Pearce (She of the Sea)
Nothing to fear. When there was no sun, You came as the light. When there was no moon, You came as the twinkle. Wishing to be with you Sadness I feel, all day long. Missing you is my deepest sorrow. For my mind is full of you. When you are here, I have nothing to fear.
Jyoti Patel (The Mystic Soul)
I leaned against the SUV he was working on. “So….” “So?” he asked, looking back down at the tablet. “How rich are we?” He snorted. “Get back to work.” And I was going to do just that, except that Kelly Bennett decided to appear right at that moment. Wearing a deputy’s uniform. Tight green pants with a tan button-up shirt that pulled against his torso. He had a mic clipped near his shoulder and a black utility belt around his waist. He wasn’t carrying a gun, but I barely noticed because at that exact moment, I discovered my legs decided to quit working and I tripped and fell into the side of the SUV. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at me. “Sorry,” I said quickly, using the SUV to pull myself back up. And immediately hit the top of my head on the open hood. “Son of a bitch.” “What are you doing?” Gordo asked slowly. I laughed wildly. “Nothing! It’s nothing. Just… don’t even worry about it.” He turned toward the front of the garage. “Oh no,” he said when he saw who was standing there. “Not this again.” He pointed the tablet at Kelly. “I swear to god, if I find an animal carcass brought here at any point, I will make both your lives a living hell. Do you understand me? I’m getting too old for this shit.” “I can’t believe we have to watch this all over again,” Chris said to Tanner. “It was bad enough the first time. Remember when Robbie figured out that he wanted to put himself all over Kelly?” “Yeah,” Tanner said. “How could I forget? We had to tell Ms. Martin that her side mirror was broken by accident instead of telling her the truth, that Robbie got a weird wolf boner and forgot his own strength.” “Maybe it’ll be like it was with Ox and Joe,” Rico said, tapping a socket wrench against his hand. “Mini muffins, you know? I ate, like, ten of them.” Chris looked scandalized. “You did what? That was one of their mystical moon magic presents! You don’t touch another man’s mystical moon magic present, Rico. They could have killed you, or worse, gotten confused and made you their mate.” He frowned. “Are there werewolf threesomes? That sounds complicated. Too many limbs. I don’t know anything about being a wolf.
T.J. Klune (Heartsong (Green Creek, #3))
Under a waxing moon--when dead moon awakens--Goddess becomes maiden swelling with light. This is the time of the Mystic East Gate...a time when the magick of Goddess revives. This is the time for new beginnings, new friendships, new powers...a time when a shattered soul may be reborn.
Teresa Joyce Jackson (Dead Moon Awakens (Mystic Gates #1))
The antimony on their features was set on silvery fire by the intensity of the moon. And their bodies, solid and quivering and half-naked, were like ancient memories of a mystical time without boundaries when it was possible to enter the consciousness of a cornseed and foretell the harvest to come.
Ben Okri (Songs of Enchantment)
Today, she is standing at the top of a mountain and appreciating the majestic panoramic view of mesmerizing Himalaya. As a kid, she used to look up in the sky and wish for wings to fly up to the mountains. And now after a long wait of many years, she is standing here and living her dream. It’s the moment when she can’t believe her eyes because what she always dreamed of has come alive. She looks with amazement as if she’s witnessing a miracle. It is the moment of her life. She just wants to feel it. There are beautiful clouds below her and there are snow clad mountain peaks emerging from those clouds. The white peaks shining in blue sky among white clouds look like glittering diamonds to her. The view of the large lush green meadow surrounded by mountains under blue sky with a rainbow circling the horizon has put her in a state of tranquility. As the sun starts drowning in the horizon, the sky begins to boast his mystical colours. The beautiful mix of pink, orange and red looks like creating a twilight saga. She opens her both arm and takes a deep breath to entwine with the nature. The glimmering rays of the moon are paying tribute to her by kissing her warm cheeks and her eyes twinkle in bright moon light. She raises her face towards the moon and senses the flood of memories which she wants to unleash. The cool breeze lifts her ruffled hair and blows her skirt up. She closes her eyes and breathes deep as if she wants to let her know that she is finally here and then she opens her eyes and finds herself on the same wheelchair inside a room with an empty wall in front of her eye. Tears rolls down from her eye but these are the tears of Joy because she is living her dreams today. The feelings comes to her mind while waiting for her daughter who is coming back home today after her first expedition of a high range mountain ~ AB
Ashish Bhardwaj
Lilith is the Wild Woman within every woman who would rather become notorious than be refrained from bathing in the sea, howling at the moon, dancing in the forest, and making love to life itself. Lilith knows that it is only through setting your boundaries that you can set yourself free. She knows the price both the Goddess and Her daughters pay to honor their ways, for She is not the only one to suffer condemnation by those who fear feminine power. Like Her, they defamed Her sisters too: magical Hecate became the baby-killing hag and wicked witch, and mystical Mary Magdalene was turned into the sinful whore. Know this: there is nothing more threatening to those enslaved by their fears than someone who dares to live freely. And live freely you must. As a bird-snake Goddess who dwells in the dark depths of your holy yoni and crown, Lilith compels you to harness your untapped life-force energy to do all that you wish to do without explanation or apology. Far from being the deceptive serpent, Lilith is the wise liberator. And She is on Eve’s side. Of course She wants her (and everyone) to “be like God,” for She knows that we are the embodiment of the Divine. She wants to free Eve and every woman (and man) from the illusion of the perfect life that comes at the price of blind obedience. She invites us to bite into the forbidden fruit of knowledge so that we may be free to think for ourselves and decide for ourselves what is right and what is wrong. She knows this comes with responsibility and consequence, and She emboldens you to take it on. Yes, Lilith wants you to be God-like, to have Divine authority and will in your own life. She calls you to leap boldly forward as you take the inspired action you need to take to live your most physically- and spiritually-free life. Those who live freely will join you. Those who don’t will no longer have the power to hold you back.
Syma Kharal (Goddess Reclaimed: 13 Initiations to Unleash Your Sacred Feminine Power)
If you were happy with all you had, then you’d grow, If the sun and moon could make you glad, then you’d know. With food on your plate and a place to sleep, be thankful and you’ll be given more to keep, Just for now, what you need for now. Feel you are worthy, you will not lack, you’ll enjoy life and love to give back, Forgiving others you forgive yourself, which makes more room to live and be well, Just allow. For every gift you give extends, more love and wealth the heavens send, Again and again, ten times ten, Because you are loved more than you know, your mistakes turn you into a loving soul, You’ll learn how.” Trinity, The Little People Journey into the Mystic Sea
Chris DiSano-Davenport (The Little People Journey into the Mystic Sea)
Not one of those worlds will be identical to Earth. A few will be hospitable; most will appear hostile. Many will be achingly beautiful. In some worlds there will be many suns in the daytime sky, many moons in the heavens at night, or great particle ring systems soaring from horizon to horizon. Some moons will be so close that their planet will loom high in the heavens, covering half the sky. And some worlds will look out onto a vast gaseous nebula, the remains of an ordinary star that once was and is no longer. In all those skies, rich in distant and exotic constellations, there will be a faint yellow star—perhaps barely seen by the naked eye, perhaps visible only through the telescope—the home star of the fleet of interstellar transports exploring this tiny region of the great Milky Way Galaxy. The themes of space and time are, as we have seen, intertwined. Worlds and stars, like people, are born, live and die. The lifetime of a human being is measured in decades; the lifetime of the Sun is a hundred million times longer. Compared to a star, we are like mayflies, fleeting ephemeral creatures who live out their whole lives in the course of a single day. From the point of view of a mayfly, human beings are stolid, boring, almost entirely immovable, offering hardly a hint that they ever do anything. From the point of view of a star, a human being is a tiny flash, one of billions of brief lives flickering tenuously on the surface of a strangely cold, anomalously solid, exotically remote sphere of silicate and iron. In all those other worlds in space there are events in progress, occurrences that will determine their futures. And on our small planet, this moment in history is a historical branch point as profound as the confrontation of the Ionian scientists with the mystics 2,500 years ago. What we do with our world in this time will propagate down through the centuries and powerfully determine the destiny of our descendants and their fate, if any, among the stars.
Carl Sagan (Cosmos)
I may do as I want as I will as I feel, but may harm none--neither here and now, nor then and there, nor in the coming of time anew--for I am of it All as it All is of the One, and you are in me as I am in you. What I give to the world, be it kindness or pain--what I do with intent, be it harm or humane--will return to me with the force of three, be it three times the love or three times the pain.
Teresa Joyce Jackson (Dead Moon Awakens (Mystic Gates #1))
i'm looking for the face i had before the world was made. I was the primordial flaring forth, the gravitational waves, the whirling galaxies, and the exploding supernovas that would become stars and planets. I was the steaming planet Earth, the bacteria awash in the sea, and the early eukaryotes and multicellular animals. I exploded in the Cambrian explosion, stumbled onto land, walked with dinosaurs, saw trees and flowers appear, walked upright in Africa, and walked on the moon. I felt the embrace of gravity. I was one with all that had been and all that was to be. I experienced subjective mystical communion with the evolutionary, emergent universe. I was the universe. We know not where the journey leads, nor whether a final destination is even a meaningful concept. The attraction is the inherent thrill of participating in a grand creative endeavor for which participation is its own reward
Alexis Karpouzos (UNIVERSAL CONSCIOUSNESS - SPIRITUALITY AND SCIENCE)
May these nuptials be blessed for us, may this marriage be blessed for us, May it be ever like milk and sugar, this marriage like wine and halvah. May this marriage be blessed with leaves and fruits like the date tree; May this marriage be laughing forever, today,tomorrow, like the houris of paradise. May this marriage be the sign of compassion and the approval of happiness here and hereafter; May this marriage be fair of fame, fair of face and fair of omen as the moon in the azure sky. I have fallen silent for words cannot describe how the spirit has mingled with this marriage
Rumi (Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi) (Mystical Poems of Rumi)
The splendor of light was a central metaphor (in the mystic) Hildegard of Bingen’s thought, a divine luminescence filling the earth…She heard God say, “I, the highest and fiery power, have kindled every spark of light…I flame above the beauty of the meadows, I gleam in the waters, and I burn in the sun, the moon, and the stars… for all life lights up out of me.” The same idea was also emerging in Jewish mystical thought (Kabbalistic)…the vessels containing God’s Shekinah glory were said to have shattered at creation, dispersing divine sparks that lie hidden within all things. The healing of the world (tikkun olam) requires the recovery of these shards of light.
Belden C. Lane (The Great Conversation: Nature and the Care of the Soul)
The bat who wanted to see the sun One night a bat said: “How is it that I
 Have never seen the sun; I wonder why? 
I long to lose myself inks pure light; 
Instead my wretched life is one long night -But though I travel with my eyes shut fast I know I’ll reach that promised blaze at last.” A seer had overheard and said: “What pride! A thousand years might bring you to its side; You are bewildered, lost you could as soon Attain the sun as could an ant the moon.” The unpersuaded bat said: “Never mind, I’ll fly about and see what I can find.” 
For years he flew in dismal ignorance,
 Till he collapsed in an exhausted trance
 And murmured as he tried in vain to fly:
“Where is the sun? Perhaps I’ve passed it by?”

Attar of Nishapur (The Conference of the Birds)
118 On the day of death, when my bier is on the move, do not suppose that I have any pain at leaving this world. Do not weep for me, say not “Alas, alas!” You will fall into the devil’s snare—that would indeed be alas! When you see my hearse, say not “Parting, parting!” That time there will be for me union and encounter. When you commit me to the grave, say not “Farewell, farewell!” For the grave is a veil over the reunion of paradise. Having seen the going-down, look upon the coming-up; how should setting impair the sun and the moon? To you it appears as setting, but it is a rising; the tomb appears as a prison, but it is release for the soul. What seed ever went down into the earth which did not grow? Why do you doubt so regarding the human seed? What bucket ever went down and came not out full? Why this complaining of the well by the Joseph of the spirit? When you have closed your mouth on this side, open it on that, for your shout of triumph will echo in the placeless air.
Rumi (Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi) (Mystical Poems of Rumi)
A crucial moment in human consciousness, then, arrives when man discovers that it is he himself, not the moon or the spring rains or the spirits of the dead, who impregnates the woman; that the child she carries and gives birth to is *his* child, who can make *him* immortal, both mystically, by propitiating the gods with prayers and sacrifices when he is dead, and concretely, by receiving the patrimony from him. At this crossroads of sexual possession, property ownership, and the desire to transcend death, developed the institution we know: the present-day patriarchal family with its supernaturalizing of the penis, its division of labor by gender, its emotional, physical, and material possessiveness, its ideal of monogamous marriage until death (and its severe penalties for adultery by the wife), the "illegitimacy" of a child born outside wedlock, the economic dependency of women, the unpaid domestic services of the wife, the obedience of women and children to male authority, the imprinting and continuation of heterosexual roles.
Adrienne Rich (Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution)
Yea, more than equally, thought Ahab; since both the ancestry and posterity of Grief go further than the ancestry and posterity of Joy. For, not to hint of this: that it is an inference from certain canonic teachings, that while some natural enjoyments here shall have no children born to them for the other world, but, on the contrary, shall be followed by the joy-childlessness of all hell's despair; whereas, some guilty mortal miseries shall still fertilely beget to themselves an eternally progressive progeny of griefs beyond the grave; not at all to hint of this, there still seems an inequality in the deeper analysis of the thing. For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heart-woes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not belie the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and soft-cymballing, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers.
Herman Melville (Moby Dick)
Nor, at the time, had it failed to enter his monomaniac mind, that all the anguish of that then present suffering was but the direct issue of a former woe; and he too plainly seemed to see, that as the most poisonous reptile of the marsh perpetuates his kind as inevitably as the sweetest songster of the grove; so, equally with every felicity, all miserable events do naturally beget their like. Yea, more than equally, thought Ahab; since both the ancestry and posterity of Grief go further than the ancestry and posterity of Joy. For, not to hint of this: that it is an inference from certain canonic teachings, that while some natural enjoyments here shall have no children born to them for the other world, but, on the contrary, shall be followed by the joy-childlessness of all hell's despair; whereas, some guilty mortal miseries shall still fertilely beget to themselves an eternally progressive progeny of griefs beyond the grave; not at all to hint of this, there still seems an inequality in the deeper analysis of the thing. For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heart-woes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not belie the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and soft-cymballing, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers.
Herman Melville (Moby-Dick or, The Whale)