Sage Of Truth Quotes

Above all else, I think that you are a compulsive liar." My laughter was tense, but sincere. "Hardly. In fact, I consider myself a compulsive truth teller. It's only that everyone else seems compelled to misunderstand me.

I don't suppose that she gave you the job based on looks alone?" Adrian had been staring off but now flashed me a big smile. "Why, Sage, you sweet talker." "That's not what I meant! What happened?" He shrugged. "I told the truth." "Adrian!" "I'm serious. She asked me what my greatest strength was. I said getting along with people." "That's not bad." I admitted. "Then she asked what my greatest weakness was. And I said, 'Where should I start?'" "Adrian!" "Stop saying my name like that. I told her the truth. By the time I was on the fourth one, she told me I could go.

Question like a child, reason like an adult, and write like a sage.

You'll have a good, secure life when being alive means more to you than security, love more than money, your freedom more than public or partisan opinion, when the mood of Beethoven's or Bach's music becomes the mood of your whole life … when your thinking is in harmony, and no longer in conflict, with your feelings … when you let yourself be guided by the thoughts of great sages and no longer by the crimes of great warriors … when you pay the men and women who teach your children better than the politicians; when truths inspire you and empty formulas repel you; when you communicate with your fellow workers in foreign countries directly, and no longer through diplomats...

I don't suppose," I said, once we were in the car, "that she just gave you the job based on looks alone?" Adrian had been staring off but now flashed me a big smile. "Why, Sage, you sweet talker." "Thats not what I meant! What happened?" He shrugged. "I told the truth." "Adrian!" "I'm serious. She asked me what my greatest strength was. I said getting along with people." "Thats not bad," I admitted. "Then she asked what my greatest weakness was. And I said, 'Where should I start?'" "Adrian!" "Stop saying my name like that. I told her the truth. By the time I was on the fourth one, she told me I could go.

Adrian looked over at me again. “Who knows more about male weakness: you or me?” “Go on.” I refused to directly answer the question. “Get a new dress. One that shows a lot of skin. Short. Strapless. Maybe a push-up bra too.” He actually had the audacity to do a quick assessment of my chest. “Eh, maybe not. But definitely some high heels.” “Adrian,” I exclaimed. “You’ve seen how Alchemists dress. Do you think I can really wear something like that?” He was unconcerned. “You’ll make it work. You’ll change clothes or something. But I’m telling you, if you want to get a guy to do something that might be difficult, then the best way is to distract him so that he can’t devote his full brainpower to the consequences.” “You don’t have a lot of faith in your own gender.” “Hey, I’m telling you the truth. I’ve been distracted by sexy dresses a lot.” I didn’t really know if that was a valid argument, seeing as Adrian was distracted by a lot of things. Fondue. T-shirts. Kittens. “And so, what then? I show some skin, and the world is mine?” “That’ll help.” Amazingly, I could tell he was dead serious. “And you’ve gotta act confident the whole time, like it’s already a done deal. Then make sure when you’re actually asking for what you want that you tell him you’d be ‘so, so grateful.’ But don’t elaborate. His imagination will do half the work for you. ” I shook my head, glad we’d almost reached our destination. I didn’t know how much more I could listen to. “This is the most ridiculous advice I’ve ever heard. It’s also kind of sexist too, but I can’t decide who it offends more, men or women.” “Look, Sage. I don’t know much about chemistry or computer hacking or photosynthery, but this is something I’ve got a lot of experience with.” I think he meant photosynthesis, but I didn’t correct him. “Use my knowledge. Don’t let it go to waste.

Truth is one, though the sages know it as many . God is one, though different religions approach Him differently Call Him Shiva, Vishnu, Allah, Jesus or any other form of God that you believe in . Our paths may be different. Our destination is the same.

How can an innocent child effortlessly carry such burdens on his shoulders? It’s almost like he’s having a chat with the ancient sages about universal truths. I’ll go on record that he’ll be an incredible sculptor if that’s what he wants to be. Creative types with that kind of vision see their spirits with crystal clearness,” offered Starla.

Truth is an honest saint, ignorance is a helpless scholar, vice is an uncaring sinner, and love is a kind sage. Knowledge is the path, understanding is the way, wisdom is the highway, and enlightenment is the destination.

Goodness & love are as real as their terrible opposites, and, in truth, far more real, though I say this mindful of the enormous evils... But love is the final reality; and anyone who does not understand this, be he writer or sage, is a man flawed of wisdom.

The ancient sages never put their teachings in systematic form. They spoke in paradoxes, for they were afraid of uttering half-truths. They began by talking like fools and ended up making their hearers wise.

Who can tell truth from falsehood any more? I say it, and you feel it in your hearts: no man or woman on this big small earth. How should our sages miss the mark of life, and our most skillful players lose the game? your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me: because all know, and no one understands.

A wise man's goal shouldn't be to say something profound, but to say something useful.

Truth is one, the sages speak of it by many names.

We balanced each other out in a weird way. And the truth was, I’d rather fight with Teddy than be happy with anyone else.

Even a thousand loud lies become powerless in front of one calm truth.

Truth does not need publicity, lies do.

Masonry, like all the Religions, all the Mysteries, Hermeticism and Alchemy, conceals its secrets from all except the Adepts and Sages, or the Elect, and uses false explanations and misinterpretations of its symbols to mislead those who deserve only to be misled; to conceal the Truth, which it calls Light from them and to draw them away from it. p.104-5

Tell them a lie big enough, they'll worship you as a sage. Tell them a truth big enough and they'll mock you.

The stoics divided philosophy into three branches: logic, physics, and ethics. Logic covered not only the rules of correct argumentation, but also grammar, linguistics, rhetorical theory, epistemology, and all the tools that might be needed to discover the truth of any matter. Physics was concerned with the nature of the world and the laws that govern it, and so included ontology and theology as well as what we would recognize as physics, astronomy, and cosmology. Ethics was concerned with how to achieve happiness, or how to live a fulfilled and flourishing life as a human being. A stoic sage was supposed to be fully expert in all three aspects.

When we become more self-aware of our needs, we become better-equipped to take care of ourselves.

The world needs your mind, the cosmos need your heart, and the universe needs your soul. Nature needs your care, mankind needs your responsibility, and humanity needs your light. The people need your truth, the populace needs your understanding, and creation needs your love.

Truth is straight. Ignorance is narrow. Knowledge is wide. Wisdom is high. Contentment is straight. Lust is narrow. Peace is wide. Joy is high. Humility is straight. Ego is narrow. Grace is wide. Meekness is high. Faith is straight. Envy is narrow. Hope is wide. Love is high.

The human has not one but two births – first, when a person is born from the mother’s womb, and second, when that person rises from the socio-culturally imposed cocoon of prejudices and ignorance.

Your belief systems are what will ultimately dictate what is possible. Overcoming their limitations is not a matter of fighting it, but taking complete ownership, complete integration of all the belief systems that you have right now, and then simply making the choice to introduce inputs into your mental environment that support the truth of what you want to see.

Nobility is a lie. A pretence that high standing comes from anything more than money or martial prowess. Any dolt can play the noble, and as you'll discover in time, daughter, it's mostly dolts who do.

What is the point of having a civilization, if we do not practice being civilized!

elders serve as conduits between the divine realm and the mundane world, making the abstract truths of spirituality accessible to the community by embodying them in their everyday behavior.

Pandavas, will you see my truth?' See well. Those words, uttered by Varuni, Sage Durvasa, Ratri, and Agni, echoed back to her. Aru's jaw clenched, but she nodded. She owed it to all of them, and, a small part of her said, she owed it to herself.

Criticisms of a society filled with fools have no power in them to bother the sage that has emerged from the agonizing fire of misery.

Light to a tree is food, to a star is honor, to a sage is truth, and to a universe is life.

Tell the truth, traveller, or you create issues hard to overcome later.

Truth is one; sages call it by various names. (Rig Veda)

I don’t know what it is I feel towards Sage … But whatever it is, it’s mine.

When a tree is burning with fierce flames, how can the birds congregate therein? Truth cannot dwell where passion lives. He who does not know this, though he be a learned man and be praised by others as a sage, is beclouded with ignorance.

Where there’s strength there’s courage. Where there’s courage there’s hope. Where there’s hope there’s faith. Where there’s faith there’s power. Where there’s truth there’s knowledge. Where there’s knowledge there’s understanding. Where there’s understanding there’s wisdom. Where there’s wisdom there’s enlightenment.

Logic is like a mouse. It can cut through anything. Ganesha is the Lord of inward logic (Vitarka). Seekers on the path of knowledge must use the mouse to cut through their own illusion (like sages) instead of trying to cut through the universe (like western scientists).

Wisdom knows the way. Understanding sees the way. Passion feels the way. Love goes all the way. Truth is straight like a line. Virtue is firm like a wall. Wisdom is tall like a mountain. Love is wide like an ocean.

Ekam Sat Vipra Bahudha Vadanti. Truth is one, though the sages know it as many. God is one, though different religions approach Him differently. Call Him Shiva, Vishnu, Allah, Jesus or any other form of God that you believe in. Our paths may be different. Our destination is the same.

Life is a sanatorium: the ignorant are patients, wisdom is the doctor, and knowledge is the remedy. The world is a hospital: people are patients, truth is the doctor, and love is the remedy. The universe is a clinic: sinners are patients, light is the doctor, and God is the remedy.

Don’t be an asshole,” he says. “I’m not pissed about you and Sage. I’m pissed that you felt you needed to hide it.

Truth is an honest saint; ignorance is a helpless scholar; knowledge is a kind sage.

Things," Aunt Zelda reminded everyone on the bridge, "are not always as they seem. Remember, the moon always shows the truth How we see it, is up to us to us, not the moon

The blindness I mean is blindness that keeps you from seein' the truth.

There is no gem like truth, no wealth like knowledge, no treasure like understanding, and no jewel like love. There is no gem like gratitude, no wealth like humility, no treasure like patience, and no jewel like virtue, There is no gem like peace, no wealth like contentment, no treasure like faith, and no jewel like joy. There is no gem like time, no wealth like experience, no treasure like reality, and no jewel like life. There is no gem like prudence, no wealth like health, no treasure like prayer, and no jewel like meditation. There is no gem like nature, no wealth like harmony, no treasure like Heaven, and no jewel like God.

And so we have come full circle, and return to the essential question: who are you? From a scientific perspective, you are miraculous. You are stardust. You contain the same energy and matter that created the universe 13 billion years ago. You were once that energy—inside the infinitesimally small point of light that began all of life. Everything around you, everything you can see, touch, and taste, is made of this matter, this same universal energy: the water that shines, the tree that reaches, the bird in flight, the grass that grows. The saints and sages across the ages said it this way: you are brothers and sisters with all of creation. If who you are and how things work are one and the same, then who you are is love.

The path to ignorance is wide. The path to shallowness is smooth. The path to understanding is bumpy. The path to wisdom is narrow. The path to ignorance is steep. The path to vice is wide. The path to pleasure is smooth. The path to integrity is bumpy. The path to innocence is narrow. The path to paradise is steep. The path to fear is wide. The path to assurance is smooth. The path to hope is bumpy. The path to valor is narrow. The path to faith is steep. The path to sorrow is wide. The path to desire is smooth. The path to patience is bumpy. The path to gratitude is narrow. The path to humility is steep. The path to strife is wide. The path to indifference is smooth. The path to peace is bumpy. The path to joy is narrow. The path to harmony is steep. The path to error is wide. The path to delusion is smooth. The path to discovery is bumpy. The path to truth is narrow. The path to certainty is steep.

...you look the truth in the face - not the truth that has fangs and fur but the hard truth about yourself, that you're just as dangerous as the beings the rest of the people fear but you can't afford to be as honest about it. You can't tell those people that you'll make deals with what they fear in order to keep them sage from the monsters who look just like them.

The highest truth is knowledge, the highest knowledge is wisdom, the highest wisdom is love, and the highest love is God.

Truth is like a rose; you have to love it with all of its thorns.

If you do not put up with the gospel truth that you have a purpose which you must carry to successful completion, you are yet to start living.

The great Sage follows his own nature and not that of society, following the fruit not the flower, he stays with the truth while rejecting the false

Really?” I asked when they were gone. “Did you have to say that?” “I speak my mind, Sage. Don’t you believe in telling the truth?

Perhaps, too, if only there is truth in the story told by sages and some welcoming abode awaits us, he whom we suppose to be dead and gone has merely been sent on ahead.

Truth is my world. Hope is my sky. Joy is my star. Love is my universe. Peace is my creed. Hope is my doctrine. The world is my church. Love is my religion.

The Sage A person of wisdom should be truthful, without arrogance, without deceit, not slanderous and not hateful. The wise person should go beyond the evil of greed and miserliness. To have your mind set on calmness, you must take power over sleepiness, drowsiness and lethargy. There is no place for laziness and no recourse to pride. Do not be led into lying, do not be attached to forms. You must see through all pride and fare along without violence. Do not get excited by what is old, do not be contented with what is new. Do not grieve for what is lost or be controlled by desire.

Truth has no ears. Ignorance has no eyes. Fear has no hands. Lust has no mind. Hate has no heart. Evil has no soul. Instinct has lips to speak to the mind. Hope has feet to carry the heart. Joy has hands to lift the soul. Truth has eyes to see the world. Love has ears to hear the universe.

It was John Kenneth Galbraith, the hyperliterate economic sage, who coined the phrase “conventional wisdom.” He did not consider it a compliment. “We associate truth with convenience,” he wrote, “with what most closely accords with self-interest and personal well-being or promises best to avoid awkward effort or unwelcome dislocation of life. We also find highly acceptable what contributes most

Because I told her about the spot of dirt on her face before. I think she appreciated the honesty.” “You’re lucky she did. She might as easily have had you whipped for being disrespectful.” “I’ve already been whipped.” “And stabbed, I hear.” “Mott has my story on that incident, sir.” “A story which is probably a lie.” “At Farthenwood, lies and truth blur together.” “Only lies in pursuit of the truth, Sage.

I? What am I?" roared the President, and he rose slowly to an incredible height, like some enormous wave about to arch above them and break. "You want to know what I am, do you? Bull, you are a man of science. Grub in the roots of those trees and find out the truth about them. Syme, you are a poet. Stare at those morning clouds. But I tell you this, that you will have found out the truth of the last tree and the top-most cloud before the truth about me. You will understand the sea, and I shall be still a riddle; you shall know what the stars are, and not know what I am. Since the beginning of the world all men have hunted me like a wolf—kings and sages, and poets and lawgivers, all the churches, and all the philosophies. But I have never been caught yet, and the skies will fall in the time I turn to bay. I have given them a good run for their money, and I will now.

The key to a convincing deception, as Sage had learned last year, was to be honest wherever possible. Not only did it reduce the number of lies one had to keep track of, the vulnerability that often came with truth generated empathy in those being deceived.

There is no entrance that joy cannot enter, no door that faith cannot open, no bridge that patience cannot cross, and no wall that love cannot breach. There is no entrance that hope cannot enter, no door that truth cannot open, no bridge that grace cannot cross, and no wall that humility cannot breach. There is no entrance that knowledge cannot enter, no door that curiosity cannot open, no bridge that understanding cannot cross, and no wall that wisdom cannot breach. There is no entrance that time cannot enter, no door that chance cannot open, no bridge that destiny cannot cross, and no wall that eternity cannot breach. There is no entrance that the mind cannot enter, no door that the heart cannot open, no bridge that the soul cannot cross, and no wall that the individual cannot breach.

It has been long since thinking humanity has learnt that love is a majestic creation of the brain, yet that knowledge hasn’t made love be deemed any less glorious. Then why should it threaten the religious believer to learn that divinity as well is a natural creation of the brain!

They decided now, talking it over in their tight little two-and-quarter room flat, that most people who call themselves 'truth seekers' - persons who scurry about chattering of Truth as though it were a tangible seperable thing, like houses or salt or bread - did not so much desire to find Truth as to cure their mental itch. In novels, these truth-seekers quested the 'secret of life' in laboratories which did not seem to be provided wtih Bunsen flames or reagents; or they went, at great expense and much discomfort from hot trains and undesirable snakes, to Himalayan monasteries, to learn from unaseptic sages that the Mind can do all sorts of edifying things if one will but spend thirty or forty years in eating rice and gazing on one's navel. To these high matters Martin responded, 'Rot!' He insisted that there is no Truth but only many truths; that Truth is not a colored bird to be chased among the rocks and captured by its tail, but a skeptical attitude toward life. (260)

You are about to be reminded of the truth-of-all-truths. I use the word “reminded” because it is something you already know, but may have forgotten or ceased to believe. No self-help book, no guru, no sage of any faith can teach you anything more important or powerful. If you accept it and embrace it this truth will whip your life around and set you on a new, higher road. You will live larger, healthier, more happily. You’ll have the ability to bounce back when you get knocked down. You’ll have the faith you need to tunnel through dark times. You’ll have the light you need to lead others to a better place. You are a child of God. That’s it. That’s everything—everything you’ll ever need to know to conquer doubt, fear and adversity, to transform your life from the mundane to the magnificent, to fortify your relationships and the foundations of all that is good and right and worthy of your attention. You are a literal spiritual child of a king all-powerful and all-loving. He knows you. He values you. He wants you to be happy and successful. You have the right to approach the throne of God and ask not only for what you need, but for what you want.

The things that are essential to salvation are so exceedingly simple that no child need sit down in despair of understanding the things which make for his peace. Christ crucified is not a riddle for sages, but a plain truth for plain people. True it is meat for men, but it is also milk for babes.

Ma Yu, known by his Taoist name Scarlet Sun, was considered his first and best disciple. Then came Eternal Truth Tan Chuduan, Eternal Life Liu Chuxuan, Eternal Spring Qiu Chuji, Jade Sun Wang Chuyi, Infinite Peace Hao Datong, and finally the Sage of Tranquility, Sun Bu’er, who had been married to Ma

It was John Kenneth Galbraith, the hyperliterate economic sage, who coined the phrase “conventional wisdom.” He did not consider it a compliment. “We associate truth with convenience,” he wrote, “with what most closely accords with self-interest and personal well-being or promises best to avoid awkward effort or unwelcome dislocation of life. We also find highly acceptable what contributes most to self-esteem.” Economic and social behaviors, Galbraith continued, “are complex, and to comprehend their character is mentally tiring. Therefore we adhere, as though to a raft, to those ideas which represent our understanding.” So

Almost I feel the pulsebeat of the ages, Now swift, now slow, beneath my fingertips. The heartthrobs of the prophets and the sages Beat through these bindings; and my quick hand slips Old books from dusty shelves, in eager seeking For truths the flaming tongues of the ancients tell; For the words of wisdom that they still are speaking As clearly as an echoing silver bell. Here is the melody that lies forever At the deep heart of living; here we keep The accurate recorded discs that never Can be quite silenced, though their makers sleep The still deep sleep, so long as a seeker finds The indelible imprint of their moving minds.

Ignorance is the world's oldest prison, fear is the world's oldest slave master, envy is the world's oldest poison, desire is the world's oldest fuel, curiosity is the world's oldest scholar, conscience is the world's oldest preacher, karma is the world's oldest judge, time is the world's oldest healer, destiny is the world's oldest prophet, truth is the world's oldest sage, courage is the world's oldest warrior, love is the world's oldest angel, joy is the world's oldest medicine, intelligence is the world's oldest professor, light is the world's oldest mirror, eternity is the world's oldest vault, knowledge is the world's oldest tree, wisdom is the world's oldest fountain, nature is the world's oldest clock, reality is the world's oldest portrait, darkness is the world's oldest curtain, stars are the world's oldest lamps, the sky is the world's oldest blanket, the Earth is the world's oldest bedroom, life is the world's oldest theatre, fate is the world's oldest conductor, people are the world's oldest actors, angels are the world's oldest spectators, and God is the world's oldest theatre owner.

Intelligence is a disciple, wisdom is its master. Caution is a disciple, prudence is its master. Discernment is a disciple, intuition is its master. Truth is a disciple, reality is its master. Experience is a disciple, awareness is its master. Illumination is a disciple, enlightenment is its master. Desire is a disciple, pleasure is its master. Laughter is a disciple, joy is its master. Need is a disciple, want is its master. Prudence is a disciple, virtue is its master. Knowledge is a disciple, truth is its master. The heart is a disciple, the mind is its master. The mind is a disciple, the soul is its master. The body is a disciple, the flesh is its master. The soul is a disciple, the spirit is its master. The present is a disciple, the past is its master. The future is a disciple, the present is its master. The past is a disciple, eternity is its master. Mankind is a disciple, nature is its master. Eternity is a disciple, God is its master.

I don’t know what it is I feel towards Sage.” Lightning strikes hard, shaking the ground. “But whatever it is, it’s mine.

Don't judge people by their religious, cultural, or professional background. Judge if you must, by their behavior with other people.

The human mind has a primordial affinity towards ideas of miracles and mysticism, especially, in times of weakness.

Know truth. Respect facts. Doubt opinions. Reject lies.

Lips may lie, but the heart always tells the truth.

You are not lonely if joy is within you; not empty if truth is within you; not poor if love is within you; and not insignificant if God is within you.

Truth cannot hide from virtue; virtue cannot hide from love; love cannot hide from God; and God cannot hide from truth.

Court truth, marry virtue, divorce ignorance.

Truth is the world's oldest saint; virtue is the world's oldest sage.

Truth cannot enter a virtuous soul without illuminating it.

Cherish truth. Esteem virtue. Prize goodness. Treasure love.

There's more truth in a grain of sand than you'll ever hear from man, woman, saint or sage. We classicists would sooner trust a potsherd.

Truth is one, the sages speak of it by many names.

7 Wonders of The world 1. Truth 2. Faith 3. Hope 4. Peace 5. Wisdom 6. Joy 7. Love

Truth is the oldest sage in the universe.

Cruelty is the badge of a weak person - be kind" RjS

Think the truth - act the truth - live the truth.

Darkness cannot be expelled with force, it can only be overwhelmed with light.

Sage is a poison apple. Too pretty for her own good, but could kill you with one single bite. Even at the thought of that, I’m still ready to sink my teeth into her.

Ekam Sat Vipra Bahudha Vadanti. Truth is one, though the sages know it as many.

Though Sage was still under the impression the inked gold band around her pinkie finger would kill her if she betrayed him, he quietly vowed to tell her the truth when he saw her again. And he would see her again. It would be a disaster, of course. The way he would take perverse delight in her face flushing with anger and her nose scrunching. How she’d yell at him, and then the flush would go all the way down her chest, dipping below her bodice, at which time, naturally, he’d be distracted by it and stop listening. She’d notice and yell at him some more. He couldn’t wait.

Intellect is its thoughts. Happiness is its desires. Pleasure is its experiences. Truth is its thoughts. Awareness is its desires. Reality is its experiences. Imagination is its thoughts. Intention is its desires. Deeds are its experiences. Wisdom is its thoughts. Joy is its desires. Love is its experiences. The mind is its thoughts. The heart is its desires. The soul is its experiences. The past is its thoughts. The present is its desires. The future is its experiences. The world is its thoughts. The universe is its desires. The heavens are its experiences.

Truth is the eldest daughter of knowledge. Intelligence is the eldest daughter of wisdom. Perception is the eldest daughter of understanding. Exposure is the eldest daughter of awareness. Calmness is the eldest daughter of peace. Hope is the eldest daughter of faith. Charity is the eldest daughter of virtue. Humility is the eldest daughter of honor. Mercy is the eldest daughter of grace. Chastity is the eldest daughter of piety. Modesty is the eldest daughter of meekness. Desire is the eldest daughter of action. Prudence is the eldest daughter of caution. Trust is the eldest daughter of Integrity. Friendship is the eldest daughter of kindness. Tolerance is the eldest daughter of equality. Freedom is the eldest daughter of democracy. Praise is the eldest daughter of appreciation. Patience is the eldest daughter of diligence. Maturity is the eldest daughter of growth. Harmony is the eldest daughter of order. Sound is the eldest daughter of movement. Heat is the eldest daughter of motion. Acceleration is the eldest daughter of force. Experience is the eldest daughter of reality. Chance is the eldest daughter of destiny. Time is the eldest daughter of eternity.

Truth changes what you see. Experience changes what you feel. Illumination changes what you experience. Consciousness changes what you see. Awareness changes what you feel. Life changes what you experience. Light changes what you see. Freedom changes what you feel. Peace changes what you experience. Hope changes what you see. Compassion changes what you feel. Love changes what you experience. The past changes what you see. The present changes what you feel. The future changes what you experience. The mind changes what you see. The heart changes what you feel. The soul changes what you experience.

Truth speaks, love hears, intuition sees, prudence knows. Passion feels, patience listens, mercy notices, humanity knows. Insight perceives, intelligence understands, intellect comprehends, wisdom knows.

It's also not uncommon for Old Souls to develop some level of clairvoyance or sixth sense in their lifetimes. This is not necessarily the psychic ability to predict events in the future – although that is not beyond the Old Soul – but rather the ability to intuitively and perceptively understand the people around them at a very profound level. This is often referred to as “seeing through people.” In other words, this is the ability to see beyond the external masks, pretentions and affectations of a person or group of people to see into their deeper hidden characters, thoughts, feelings and motives. For this reason, it's very hard to fool the Old Soul, who can easily differentiate the charlatan from the truth teller, the malicious from the kind-hearted, the unstable from the balanced, and the shallow man from the thoughtful man.

Light in love is joy. Light in faith is hope. Light in compassion is mercy. Light in gratitude is contentment. Light in understanding is awareness. Light in intellect is discernment. Light in certainty is conviction. Light in patience is expectation. Light in truth is discovery. Light in innocence is virtue. Light in experience is illumination. Light in consciousness is realization. Light in your world is warmth. Light in your sky is energy. Light in your universe is wisdom. Light in your yourself is virtue. Light in your mind is truth. Light in your heart is knowledge. Light in your soul is wisdom. Light in your life is God.

We always want what we’re not allowed.’20 Ovid, in offering this sage observation, was putting his finger on a mocking truth. Forbidden fruit tasted the sweetest. ‘Prohibitions, trust me, only encourage bad behaviour.

Intelligence is a tenant in the house of wisdom. Knowledge is a tenant in the house of nature. Insight is a tenant in the house of understanding. Wealth is a tenant in the house of risk. Mastery is a tenant in the house of discipline. Patience is a tenant in the house of virtue. Tolerance is a tenant in the house of freedom. Awareness is a tenant in the house of experience. Rest is a tenant in the house of sleep. Laughter is a tenant in the house of joy. Hope is a tenant in the house of faith. Contentment is a tenant in the house of peace. Kindness is a tenant in the house of love. Harmony is a tenant in the house of order. Humility is a tenant in the house of honor. Caution is a tenant in the house of prudence. Speech is a tenant in the house of silence. Certainty is a tenant in the house of conviction. Expectation is a tenant in the house of desire. Need is a tenant in the house of want. Truth is a tenant in the house of reality. Chance is a tenant in the house of fate. Time is a tenant in the house of eternity. Life is a tenant in the house of death. Nature is a tenant in the house of God.

Truth is my favorite science, virtue is my favorite art, faith is my favorite technology, and love is my favorite gospel. Wisdom is my religion. Books are my priest. Libraries are my temple. Enlightenment is my Heaven.

Anger is strong, rage is mighty, wrath is powerful, but joy is invincible. Pain is strong, bitterness is mighty, despair is powerful, but hope is invincible. Doubt is strong, confusion is mighty, suspicion is powerful, but truth is invincible. Greed is strong, malice is mighty, pride is powerful, but virtue is invincible. Hate is strong, fear is mighty, jealousy is powerful, but love is invincible. Ignorance is strong, stupidity is mighty, folly is powerful, but wisdom is invincible. The mind is strong, the heart is mighty, the spirit is powerful, but the soul is invincible. The past is strong, the present is mighty, the future is powerful, but eternity is invincible.

The simple crawl to truth. The average walk to knowledge. The prudent run to understanding. The intelligent sprint to brilliance. The enlightened soar to wisdom. The simple crawl to laughter. The average walk to peace. The prudent run to contentment. The intelligent sprint to enjoyment. The enlightened soar to joy. The simple crawl to patience. The average walk to gratitude. The prudent run to virtue. The intelligent sprint to faith. The enlightened soar to love. The simple crawl to caution. The average walk to passion. The prudent run to discipline. The intelligent sprint to humility. The enlightened soar to excellence. The simple crawl to awareness. The average walk to reality. The prudent run to experience. The intelligent sprint to spirituality. The enlightened soar to destiny. The simple crawl to the past. The average walk to the present. The prudent run to the future. The intelligent sprint to eternity. The enlightened soar to immortality.

Truth is One: Sages call it by various names. It is the one sun which reflects in all the ponds; It is the one water which slakes the thirst of all; It is the one air which sustains all life; Systems of faith may be different, but God is one.

Without truth, time is merely the kingdom of the animals. Time brings progress and humanitarian glory, only if truth walks the nerves of our mind, as we walk the alleys of space - in that walk we relinquish the space between the self and the other.

And yet everyone goes toward one and the same thing, at least everyone strives for one and the same thing, from the sage to the last robber, only by different paths. This is an old truth, but what is new here is this: I cannot get very confused. Because I saw the truth, I saw and I know that people can be beautiful and happy without losing the ability to live on earth. I will not and cannot believe that evil is the normal condition of people. And they all laugh merely at this belief of mine. But how can I not believe: I saw the truth - it’s not that my mind invented it, but I saw it, I saw it, and its living image filled my soul for all time. I saw it in such fulfilled wholeness that I cannot believe it is impossible for people to have it.

The course of training of the yogī was divided into eight stages, reminding us of the eightfold path of Buddhism, but far less practical: (1) Self-control (yama), the practice of the five moral rules: non-violence, truthfulness, not stealing, chastity, and the avoidance of greed. (2) Observance (niyama), the regular and complete observance of the above five rules. (3) Posture (āsana), sitting in certain postures, difficult without practice, which are thought to be essential to meditation. The most famous of these is padmāsna, the “Lotus Posture”, in which the feet are placed on the opposite thighs, and in which gods and sages are commonly depicted. (4) Control of the Breath (prānāyāma), whereby the breath is held and controlled and the respiration forced into unusual rhythms, which are believed to be of great physical and spiritual value. (5) Restraint (pratyāhāra), whereby the sense organs are trained to take no note of their perceptions. (6) Steadying the Mind (dhāranā), by concentration on a single object, such as the tip of the nose, the navel, an icon, or a sacred symbol. (7) Meditation (dhyāna), when the object of concentration fills the whole mind. (8) Deep Meditation (samādhi), when the whole personality is temporarily dissolved.

Stored personal memories along with handed down collective memories of stories, legends, and history allows us to collate our interactions with a physical and social world and develop a personal code of survival. In essence, we all become self-styled sages, creating our own book of wisdom based upon our studied observations and practical knowledge gleaned from living and learning. What we quickly discover is that no textbook exist how to conduct our life, because the world has yet to produce a perfect person – an ideal observer – whom is capable of handing down a concrete exemplar of epistemic virtues. We each draw upon the guiding knowledge, theories, and advice available for us in order to explore the paradoxes, ironies, inconsistencies, and the absurdities encountered while living in a supernatural world. We mold our personal collection of information into a practical practicum how to live and die. Each day we define and redefine who we are, determine how we will react today, and chart our quest into an uncertain future.

God is the beginning of life. Life is the beginning of time. Time is the beginning of eternity. Eternity is the beginning of reality. Reality is the beginning of existence. Existence is the beginning of truth. Truth is the beginning of knowledge. Spirituality is the beginning of virtue. Virtue is the beginning of wisdom. Wisdom the beginning of intelligence. Intelligence is the beginning of understanding. Understanding is the beginning of insight. Insight is the beginning of intuition. Intuition is the beginning of success.

Truth is an honest saint, ignorance is a helpless scholar, knowledge is a kind sage. Understanding is an honest saint, uncertainty is a helpless scholar, wisdom is a kind sage. Awareness is an honest saint, apathy is a helpless scholar, intelligence is a kind sage. Time is an honest saint, life is a helpless scholar, eternity is a kind sage. Nature is an honest saint, mankind is a helpless scholar, enlightenment is a kind sage. Hope is an honest saint, wrath is a helpless sinner, love is a kind sage. Prudence is an honest saint, greed is a helpless sinner, charity is a kind sage. Compassion is an honest saint, vengeance is a helpless sinner, forgiveness is a kind sage. Contentment is an honest saint, envy is a helpless sinner, peace is a kind sage. Virtue is an honest saint, vice is a helpless sinner, love is a kind sage.

Man is made of thought, of will and of love: he can think truth or error, he can will good or evil, he can love beauty or ugliness. Now thought of the true — or knowledge of the real — demands on the one hand willing of the good and on the other love of the beautiful, hence virtue, for virtue is none other than beauty of soul; that is why the Greeks, who were aesthetes as well as thinkers, included virtue within philosophy. Without beauty of soul, all willing is sterile, it is petty and closes itself to grace; and in an analogous manner: without effort of will, all spiritual thought ultimately remains superficial and ineffectual and leads to pretension. Virtue coincides with a sensibility proportioned — or conformed — to the Truth, and that is why the soul of the sage soars above things and thereby above itself, if one may put it thus; whence the disinterestedness, nobleness and generosity of great souls. Quite clearly, the consciousness of metaphysical principles cannot go hand in hand with moral pettiness, such as ambition and hypocrisy : "Be ye perfect even as your Father in Heaven is perfect.

The names of Seneca, of the elder and the younger Pliny, of Tacitus, of Plutarch, of Galen, of the slave Epictetus, and of the emperor Marcus Antoninus, adorn the age in which they flourished, and exalt the dignity of human nature. They filled with glory their respective stations, either in active or contemplative life; their excellent understandings were improved by study; philosophy had purified their minds from the prejudices of the popular superstition; and their days were spent in the pursuit of truth and the practice of virtue. Yet all these sages (it is no less an object of surprise than of concern) overlooked or rejected the perfection of the Christian system. Their language or their silence equally discover their contempt for the growing sect which in their time had diffused itself over the Roman empire. Those among them who condescend to mention the Christians consider them only as obstinate and perverse enthusiasts, who exacted an implicit submission to their mysterious doctrines, without being able to produce a single argument that could engage the attention of men of sense and learning.

प्रातः स्मरामि हृदि संस्फुरदात्मतत्त्वं सच्चित्सुखं परमहंसगतिं तुरीयम् । यत्स्वप्नजागरसुषुप्तिमवैति नित्यं तद्ब्रह्म निष्कलमहं न च भूतसङ्घः ॥१॥ prātaḥ smarāmi hṛdi saṃsphuradātmatattvaṃ saccitsukhaṃ paramahaṃsagatiṃ turīyam | yatsvapnajāgarasuṣuptimavaiti nityaṃ tadbrahma niṣkalamahaṃ na ca bhūtasaṅghaḥ ||1|| ~ At dawn, I meditate in my heart on the truth of the radiant inner Self. This true Self is Pure Being, Awareness, and Joy, the transcendent goal of the great sages. The eternal witness of the waking, dream and deep sleep states. I am more than my body, mind and emotions, I am that undivided Spirit. At dawn, I worship the true Self that is beyond the reach of mind and speech, By whose grace, speech is even made possible, This Self is described in the scriptures as “Not this, Not this”. It is called the God of the Gods, It is unborn, undying, one with the All. At dawn, I salute the true Self that is beyond all darkness, brilliant as the sun, The infinite, eternal reality, the highest. On whom this whole universe of infinite forms is superimposed. It is like a snake on a rope. The snake seems so real, but when you pick it up, it’s just a rope. This world is ever-changing, fleeting, but this eternal Light is real and everlasting. Who recites in the early morning these three sacred Slokas, which are the ornaments of the three worlds, obtains the Supreme Abode. ~ Adi Shankara (8th century)

Knowledge opens your mind, understanding opens your heart, wisdom opens your soul. Patience opens your mind, gratitude opens your heart, humility opens your soul. Contentment opens your mind, freedom opens your heart, innocence opens your soul. Pleasure opens your mind, laughter opens your heart, joy opens your soul. Intelligence opens your mind, virtue opens your heart, love opens your soul. Confidence opens your mind, hope opens your heart, faith opens your soul. Focus opens your mind, determination opens your heart, fortitude opens your soul. Thoughts open your mind, emotions open your heart, desires open your soul. Consciousness opens your mind, awareness opens your heart, experience opens your soul. Imagination opens your mind, actions open your heart, life opens your soul. Truth opens your mind, reality opens your heart, destiny opens your soul.

Insight cannot hide from understanding, understanding cannot hide from wisdom, wisdom cannot hide from knowledge, and knowledge cannot hide from truth. Discipline cannot hide from competence, competence cannot hide from progress, progress cannot hide from excellence, and excellence cannot hide from success. Fortitude cannot hide from expectation, expectation cannot hide from hope, hope cannot hide from faith, and faith cannot hide from miracles. Integrity cannot hide from virtue, virtue cannot hide from kindness, kindness cannot hide from love, and love cannot hide from God.

That's not what I meant! What happened?" He shrugged. "I told the truth." "Adrian!" "I'm serious. She asked me what my greatest strength was. I said getting along with people." "That not bad," I admitted. "Then she asked me what my greatest weakness was. And I said, 'Where should I start.'" "Adrian!

Our work is rejected because we are actually interested in the truth. Not a good look! People are “ashamed and embarrassed” by our work because, like Nietzsche’s work, it’s full of “difficult” material. Nietzsche was totally ignored during his sane life. Even today, the common herd don’t have a clue who he is. Leibniz, humanity’s greatest genius, is more or less unknown. That’s the way it goes. Our work is suffering the same fate. Well, it’s no surprise. We refused to play the Mandarin game. We refused to comply with the herd. Like true philosophers, we prefer to be Sages and Gadflies. The masses killed Socrates. Everyone that refuses to share our work is passing us the hemlock. So be it! We have total contempt for people that claim to like our work, but wouldn’t be seen dead sharing it on social media. You must be able to stand with those making difficult arguments that the herd don’t like. We disagree with Nietzsche on all manner of things, but we would certainly stand shoulder to shoulder with him against the herd. It’s essential for Gadflies to exist to shake the masses out of their complacency. Yet the Gadflies are always hated and, in the end, they are always handed the hemlock. They are the true heroes of our world, the ones that never get any credit.

Montaigne admits to getting carried away in the heat of an argument, exaggerating the naked truth by the vigor of his words. Yet we all insist upon our opinions, forcing them upon others by iron and fire. Better to be tentative than to be recklessly sure, to be an apprentice at sixty than to present oneself as a doctor at ten.

By nature, that mind is easily fooled by supernatural mysticism. It is extremely gullible. And no matter how much we the civilized human beings advance in the fields of modern sciences, there is always a part of us, that tries to allure us with magical nonsense, because that nonsense has been with us since the birth of humanity.

Love is the primary domain of a mind that has freed itself from suffering. It is the home of sages who have witnessed ultimate truth. In this sense, love and freedom are synonymous. This apex of love is only possible when the mind has risen above the attachments of ego and finally understood that true peace is found in letting go.

Truth is a stairway to knowledge, existence is a highway to understanding; together they are an elevator to experience. Need is a stairway to want, desire is a highway to action; together they are an elevator to destiny. Peace is a stairway to knowledge, compassion is a highway to harmony; together they are an elevator to world peace. Books are a stairway to education, awareness is a highway to understanding; together they are an elevator to enlightenment. Sleep is a stairway to rest, life is a highway to death; together they are an elevator to eternity. Light is a stairway to God, virtue is a highway to Heaven; together they are an elevator to divinity.

You can’t have a relationship with someone hoping they’ll change. You have to be willing to commit to them as they are, with no expectations. And if they happen to choose to change at some point along the way, then that’s just a bonus. Words start tumbling out of her mouth, concluding with her desire to move in and start a family with me. It sends a chill up my spine, because this is exactly what I want with Ingrid if things work out between us. “You want to move in, stay with me forever, and start a family together?” “Yes,” she says, her eyes widening with equal parts sincerity and supplication. I picture what the future would actually be like with Sage: I imagine us married and raising children—until one day when she feels trapped again, she runs away to Fiji without warning, leaving me to explain to the kids that Mommy left to search for herself and I don’t know when she’s coming back. The winds of ambivalence will continue blowing her back to me and away again, back and away, back and away. They say that love is blind, but it’s trauma that’s blind. Love sees what is.

Many people pretend to be in thought, proving thought to be a beautiful thing. But the bald man doesn’t need a comb, the tiger doesn’t need weapons, the fool doesn’t need thought. The person with no needs is practically a sage, but the sage also needs to count the rivers across the iron bridge to pass the time. This is the difference between the sage and the fool.

Truth seeks, knowledge finds. Awareness seeks, experience finds. Opinions seek, facts find. Theory seeks, certainty finds. Knowledge seeks, philosophy finds. Intelligence seeks, wisdom finds. Want seeks, need finds. Desire seeks, fulfillment finds. Contentment seeks, peace finds. Pleasure seeks, happiness finds. Laughter seeks, joy finds. Compassion seeks, mercy finds. Humility seeks, honor finds. Prudence seeks, goodness finds. Innocence seeks, freedom finds. Virtue seeks, love finds. Followers seek, leaders find. Scholars seek, sages find. Sinners seek, saints find. Religion seeks, spirituality finds. Education seeks, enlightenment finds. The mind seeks, the heart finds. The heart seeks, the soul finds. The soul seeks, the spirit finds. The spirit seeks, God finds. Reality seeks, fate finds. Experience seeks, destiny finds. Time seeks, immortality finds. The world seeks, the universe finds. The past seeks, the present finds. The present seeks, the future finds. The future seeks, eternity finds. Time seeks, eternity finds. Risk seeks, fortune finds. Peace seeks, harmony finds. Nature seeks, Heaven finds. Life seeks, Paradise finds.

Arjuna said: You are the Supreme Personality of Godhead, the ultimate abode, the purest, the Absolute Truth. You are the eternal, transcendental, original person, the unborn, the greatest. All the great sages such as Nārada, Asita, Devala and Vyāsa confirm this truth about You, and now You Yourself are declaring it to me. O Kṛṣṇa, I totally accept as truth all that You have told me.

She could smell the wrongness in the air and it made her wolf nervous. It felt like something was watching them, as if the wrongness had an intelligence— and it didn't help to remember that at least one of the people they were hunting could hide from their senses. Anna fought the urge to turn around, to take Charles's hand or slide under his arm and let his presence drive away the wrongness. Once, she would have, but now she had the uneasy feeling that he might back away as he almost had when she sat on his lap in the boat, before Brother Wolf had taken over. Maybe he was just tired of her. She had been telling everyone that there was something wrong with him...but Bran knew his son and thought the problem was her. Bran was smart and perceptive; she ought to have considered that he was right. Charles was old. He'd seen and experienced so much—next to him she was just a child. His wolf had chosen her without consulting Charles at all. Maybe he'd have preferred someone who knew more. Someone beautiful and clever who... "Anna?" said Charles. "What's wrong? Are you crying?" He moved in front of her and stopped, forcing her to stop walking, too. She opened her mouth and his fingers touched her wet cheeks. "Anna," he said, his body going still. "Call on your wolf." "You should have someone stronger," she told him miserably. "Someone who could help you when you need it, instead of getting sent home because I can't endure what you have to do. If I weren't Omega, if I were dominant like Sage, I could have helped you." "There is no one stronger," Charles told her. "It's the taint from the black magic. Call your wolf." "You don't want me anymore," she whispered. And once the words were out she knew they were true. He would say the things that he thought she wanted to hear because he was a kind man. But they would be lies. The truth was in the way he closed down the bond between them so she wouldn't hear things that would hurt her. Charles was a dominant wolf and dominant wolves were driven to protect those weaker than themselves. And he saw her as so much weaker. "I love you," he told her. "Now, call your wolf." She ignored his order—he knew better than to give her orders. He said he loved her; it sounded like the truth. But he was old and clever and Anna knew that, when push came to shove, he could lie and make anyone believe it. Knew it because he lied to her now—and it sounded like the truth. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'll go away—" And suddenly her back was against a tree and his face was a hairsbreadth from hers. His long hot body was pressed against her from her knees to her chest—he'd have to bend to do that. He was a lot taller than her, though she wasn't short. Anna shuddered as the warmth of his body started to penetrate the cold that had swallowed hers. Charles waited like a hunter, waited for her to wiggle and see that she was truly trapped. Waited while she caught her breathe. Waited until she looked into his eyes. Then he snarled at her. "You are not leaving me." It was an order, and she didn't have to follow anyone's orders. That was part of being Omega instead of a regular werewolf—who might have had a snowball's chance in hell of being a proper mate. "You need someone stronger," Anna told him again. "So you wouldn't have to hide when you're hurt. So you could trust your mate to take care of herself and help, damn it, instead of having to protect me from whatever you are hiding." She hated crying. Tears were weaknesses that could be exploited and they never solves a damn thing. Sobs gathered in her chest like a rushing tide and she needed to get away from him before she broke. Instead of fighting his grip, she tried to slide out of it. "I need to go," she said to his chest. "I need—" His mouth closed over hers, hot and hungry, warming her mouth as his body warmed her body. "Me," Charles said, his voice dark and gravelly as if it had traveled up from the bottom of the earth,...

Intelligence is a great scholar, virtue is an extraordinary saint, love is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of integrity. Awareness is a great scholar, compassion is an extraordinary saint, prudence is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of humanity. Intellect is a great scholar, truth is an extraordinary saint, experience is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of philosophy. Curiosity is a great scholar, humility is an extraordinary saint, discipline is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of discovery. Understanding is a great scholar, patience is an extraordinary saint, discernment is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of harmony. Life is a great scholar, God is an extraordinary saint, nature is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of divinity. Reality is a great scholar, time is an extraordinary saint, fate is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of eternity. The mind is a great scholar, the heart is an extraordinary saint, the soul is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of spirituality. Mankind is a great scholar, the world is an extraordinary saint, the universe is a remarkable sage; together they are alters of immortality.

Truth's Virtue- Poem Excerpt: Truth, in all her virtue, Will be your sunrise, your sunset, Your morning breeze and your bedtime nest, She will want a home in your heart, Guiding your way As a star that pounces from the heavens, Chasing cheating ghosts away, She will be the fruitful soil, from which a sincere and striking beauty will spring free, With sagely roots to ground her as the mightiest tree.

Beneath the outer forms of every religion lies a golden thread—a mystical core that speaks of unity, love, and the divinity within all beings. The teachings of mystics and sages across traditions—whether Sufi, Gnostic, Kabbalistic, Buddhist, Vedic, or Indigenous—point to the same truth: that the sacred is not a destination, but the very fabric of existence. The divine is not something to be reached; it is something to be remembered.

The srutis and the sages say that the objects are only mental creations. They have no substantive being. Investigate the matter and ascertain the truth of this statement. The result will be the conclusion that the objective world is in the subjective consciousness. The Self is thus the only Reality that permeates and also envelops the world. Since there is no duality, no thoughts will arise to disturb your peace. This is Realization of the Self. (p. 382)

Time is the entryway to the past, the past is the doorway to the present, the present is the hallway to the future, and the future is the passageway to eternity. Reality is the entryway to awareness, awareness is the doorway to experience, experience is the hallway to truth, and truth is the passageway to knowledge. Intelligence is the entryway to insight, insight is the doorway to understanding, understanding is the hallway to wisdom, and wisdom is the passageway to enlightenment. Religion is the entryway to spirituality, spirituality is the doorway to faith, faith is the hallway to hope, and hope is the passageway to expectation. God is the entryway to light, light is the doorway to love, love is the hallway to life, and life is the passageway to existence. The soul is the entryway to the heart, the heart is the doorway to the mind, the mind is the hallway to the world, and the world is the passageway to the universe.

Truth knows the way. Knowledge sees the way. Intuition feels the way. Experience goes all the way. Wisdom knows the way. Understanding sees the way. Passion feels the way. Love goes all the way. Nature knows the way. Prudence sees the way. Compassion feels the way. Virtue goes all the way. Teachers know the way. Professors see the way. Students feel the way. Sages go all the way. Time knows the way. Fate sees the way. Chance feels the way. Destiny goes all the way.

while people go on chatting about a million and one things I mostly sit and observe with ascended understandings as they bring up the topic of death and of a person dying I listen quietly while often accidentally smiling at the absurdity of anybody ever believing in death I don't mean to be insensitive towards a body's last breath a higher Reality laid bare, bodily expiration is of no account with this revelation incalculable life fears we surmount the Sage is notorious for finding strange things funny giggling at horrors and ridiculous events not so sunny sometimes a straight face is merely for show but spy the glint in his eye about a truth you don’t know an unfounded assumption is that we only live once not a Mystic throughout history has avowed this occurrence Christian ones may not have mentioned being reborn again they also didn't deny it—their teaching was kept plain just as the Buddha intentionally avoided the God concept ultimately not essential, under the rug reincarnation is swept

Now you know that the fascinating phenomenon of love has nothing to do with the supernatural entity known as Cupid, but everything to do with neurochemistry. Likewise, divinity is a cerebral creation, not a supernatural one. And it has been long since thinking humanity has learnt that love is a majestic creation of the brain, yet that knowledge hasn’t made love be deemed any less glorious. Then why should it threaten the religious believer to learn that divinity as well is a natural creation of the brain!

But there’s no chance I can possibly be truthful for this particular assessment. Because if I was, I would need to admit that beauty for me is a quiet girl with a brilliant mind, a debate team captain with a calm voice and textbooks covered in colour-coded annotations. Beauty for me is a girl with cold skin and a faraway gaze, a girl who loves children’s books but rarely laughs. Beauty for me is sage-green silk and soft white wool and forget-me-not eyes. My definition of beauty starts and ends with Theodora.

Oh, now, life, life! I lifted up my hands and called upon eternal truth, not with words, but with tears; ecstasy, immeasurable ecstasy flooded my soul. Yes, life and spreading the good tidings! Oh, I at that moment resolved to spread the tidings, and resolved it, of course, for my whole life. I go to spread the tidings, I want to spread the tidings — of what? Of the truth, for I have seen it, have seen it with my own eyes, have seen it in all its glory. And since then I have been preaching! Moreover I love all those who laugh at me more than any of the rest. Why that is so I do not know and cannot explain, but so be it. I am told that I am vague and confused, and if I am vague and confused now, what shall I be later on? It is true indeed: I am vague and confused, and perhaps as time goes on I shall be more so. And of course I shall make many blunders before I find out how to preach, that is, find out what words to say, what things to do, for it is a very difficult task. I see all that as clear as daylight, but, listen, who does not make mistakes? An yet, you know, all are making for the same goal, all are striving in the same direction anyway, from the sage to the lowest robber, only by different roads. It is an old truth, but this is what is new: I cannot go far wrong. For I have seen the truth; I have seen and I know that people can be beautiful and happy without losing the power of living on earth. I will not and cannot believe that evil is the normal condition of mankind. And it is just this faith of mine that they laugh at. But how can I help believing it? I have seen the truth — it is not as though I had invented it with my mind, I have seen it, seen it, and the living image of it has filled my soul for ever. I have seen it in such full perfection that I cannot believe that it is impossible for people to have it. And so how can I go wrong? I shall make some slips no doubt, and shall perhaps talk in second-hand language, but not for long: the living image of what I saw will always be with me and will always correct and guide me. Oh, I am full of courage and freshness, and I will go on and on if it were for a thousand years!

Truth is not a science. Virtue is not a faith. Love is not a religion. Courage is not a science. Hope is not a faith. Assurance is not a religion. Joy is not a science. Peace is not a faith. Compassion is not a religion. Humility is not a science. Patience is not a faith. Gratitude is not a religion. Silence is not a science. Harmony is not a faith. Goodness is not a religion. Grace is not a science. Elegance is not a faith. Beauty is not a religion. Prayer is not a science. Mediation is not a faith. God is not a religion.

[I]t is no doubt true that our image of what a messiah might look like may keep us from recognizing the real thing when it stands before us. Could it be that we have embellished the long-awaited event with so many aggadic flourishes that we can no longer recognize the reality when it happens? Could our overly literal reading of our sages’ poetic descriptions have led us to overlook completely the miracle as it happened? One of the dangers of taking the statements and speculations of our sages as literal truth—when they were not meant as such—is the distortion of our expectations.

In the second story, which reminds me to look inward for solutions to what may be troubling me, the ninth-century sage Rabia was looking for a lost key under a streetlight. Her neighbors turned out to help, but without success. Finally, they asked where she might have dropped the key, so that they could better focus their search. “Actually,” said Rabia, “I lost it in my house.” Bemused, they asked her why she didn’t look for it there. “Because,” she said, “there’s no light in my house, but out here the light is bright!” The neighbors laughed, and Rabia seized the moment to make her point. “Friends,” she said, “you are intelligent people and that is why you laugh. But tell me: When you lose your joy or peace of mind because of some disappointment or hardship, did you lose it out there [gesturing around her] or in here [gesturing to her heart]?” We tend to lay blame on our external circumstances and seek superficial solutions, but the truth is that we lost our peace and joy inside ourselves. We avoid looking inside us, where the light is dim. When we make it a lifelong practice to shine the light of compassionate awareness on ourself, our shadow gently begins to diminish, and we come closer to discovering our radiant, divine Self.

Somewhere beyond Tibet, among the icy peaks and secluded valleys of Central Asia, there lies an inaccessible paradise, a place of universal wisdom and ineffable peace called Shambhala . . . It is inhabited by adepts from every race and culture who form an inner circle of humanity secretly guiding its evolution. In that place, so the legends say, sages have existed since the beginning of human history in a valley of supreme beatitude that is sheltered from the icy arctic winds and where the climate is always warm and temperate, the sun always shines, the gentle airs are always beneficent and nature flowers luxuriantly.

Just as summer-killed meat draws flies, so the court draws spurious sages, philosophists, and acosmists who remain there as long as their purses and their wits will maintain them, in the hope (at first) of an appointment from the Autarch and (later) of obtaining a tutorial position in some exalted family. At sixteen or so, Thecla was attracted, as I think young women often are, to their lectures on theogony, thodicy, and the like, and I recall one particularly in which a phoebad put forward as an ultimate truth the ancient sophistry of the existence of three Adonai, that of the city (or of the people), that of the poets, and that of the philosophers. Her reasoning was that since the beginning of human consciousness (if such a beginning ever was) there have been vast numbers of persons in the three categories who have endeavored to pierce the secret of the divine. If it does not exist, they should have discovered that long before; if it does, it is not possible that Truth itself should mislead them. Yet the beliefs of the populace, the insights of the rhapsodists, and the theories of the metaphysicians have so far diverged that few of them can so much as comprehend what the others say, and someone who knew nothing of any of their ideas might well believe there was no connection at all between them. May it not be, she asked (and even now I am not certain I can answer), that instead of traveling, as has always been supposed, down three roads to the same destination, they are actually traveling toward three quite different ones? After all, when in common life we behold three roads issuing from the same crossing, we do not assume they all proceed toward the same goal. I found (and find) this suggestion as rational as it is repellent, and it represents for me all that monomaniacal fabric of argument, so tightly woven that not even the tiniest objection or spark of light can escape its net, in which human minds become enmeshed whenever the subject is one in which no appeal to fact is possible. As a fact the Claw was thus an incommensurable. No quantity of money, no piling up of archipelagoes or empires could approach it in value any more than the indefinite multiplication of horizontal distance could be made to equal vertical distance. If it was, as I believed, a thing from outside the universe, then its light, which I had seen shine faintly so often, and a few times brightly, was in some sense the only light we had. If it were destroyed, we were left fumbling in the dark.

Laughter is your acquaintance. Joy is your friend. Fear is your opponent. Love is your companion. Pleasure is your acquaintance. Discipline is your friend. Envy is your opponent. Peace is your companion. Integrity is your acquaintance. Compassion is your friend. Anger is your opponent. Humanity is your companion. Desire is your acquaintance. Contentment is your friend. Vice is your opponent. Virtue is your companion. Reality is your acquaintance. Truth is your friend. Ignorance is your opponent. Wisdom is your companion. Time is your acquaintance. Life is your friend. Death is your opponent. Eternity is your companion.

Most of our brains are out, but it is good what they did for themselves by leaving this country. They are Cameroon’s reserve for development, for the day that this country shall be free. Your late father was an intelligent man. He was even more than that. He was a sage. He once said to me that the intelligent Bamilekés are those who have sought a better future for themselves and for their families in British Cameroons. He was right. They have not been brainwashed as much as their francophone brothers have. If he were alive today, I am sure he would have judged that the intelligent Cameroonians are those who have sought refuge out of Cameroon.

It is a great pleasure to enter a Cretan peasant's home. Everything about you is patriarchal: the hearth, the oil-lamp, the earthenware jars lining the wall, a few chairs, a table and, on the left as you enter, in a hole in the wall, a pitcher of fresh water. From the beams hang strings of quinces, pomegranates and aromatic plants: sage, mint, red-peppers, rosemary and savoury. At the far end of the room a ladder or a few wooden steps lead up to the raised platform, where there is a trestle-bed and, above it, the holy icons with their lamps. The house appears empty, but it contains everything needful, so few in reality are the true necessities of man.

I am not here to answer your questions. To answer would imply that we conceded some slight possibility of truth to your assertions of innocence, and we do not concede that. Truth is something which is to be had from us, not from you. Ours is the most remarkable government in the history of mankind; because we, and only we, have accepted as a working principle what every sage has taught and every government has feigned to accept: the power of the truth. And because we do, we rule as no other government has ever ruled. You have often asked me what your crime is, why we detain you. It is because we know you are lying—do you understand what I am telling you?

Those baby-ghosts love to whisper; they love to hypnotize me every time I smell a newborn’s head or even look at Facebook posts of toddlers splashing in bathtubs and playing in pumpkin patches. But the truth is, those whispers are small echoes of a life that wasn’t supposed to be—a life I unknowingly abandoned when I stepped foot in that classroom and used my time to care for other people’s children. Those whispers taunt from some innate, ancestral, maybe even mystical place of wonder that, surely, I’ll never understand. What I do understand is the transformative value—how to use those voices to repair others and bring meaning to my life. For every student rocking in that blue chair, I have purpose.

Once he has recognized his invisible guide, a mystic sometimes decides to trace his own isnlld, to reveal his spiritual genealogy, that is, to disclose the "chain of transmission" culminating in his person and bear witness to the spiritual ascendancy which he invokes across the generations of mankind. He does neither more nor less than to designate by name the minds to whose family he is conscious of belonging. Read in the opposite order from their phenomenological emergence, these genealogies take on the appearance of true genealogies. Judged by the rules of _our historical criticism, the claim of these genealogies to truth seems highly precarious. Their relevance is to another "transhistoric truth," which cannot be regarded as inferior (because it is of a different order) to the material historic truth whose claim to truth, with the documentation at our disposal, is no less precarious. Suhrawardi traces the family tree of the IshrlqiyOn back to Hermes, ancestor of the Sages, (that Idris-Enoch of Islamic prophetology, whom Ibn rArabi calls the prophet of the Philosophers) ; from him are descended the Sages of Greece and Persia, who are followed by certain �ofis (Abo Yazid Bastlmi, Kharraqlni, I;Ialllj, and the choice seems particularly significant in view of what has been said above about the Uwaysis}, and all these branches converge in his own doctrine and school. This is not a history of philosophy in our sense of the term; but still less is it a mere fantasy.

We seldom stop to think—and we certainly should do so more often—that in taking the words of our sages as a description of mere fact, we may miss the deeper meanings which they meant to convey. As a rule, aggadah should not be taken literally; rather, it must be interpreted with the understanding that a higher truth is being alluded to—a truth that is beyond historical perspective, philological expression, or the dimensions of scientific observations. Agaddah speaks to that part of us that understands but cannot articulate what it understands. It allows us to go beyond the realms of the definable, perceivable, and demonstrable. In this sense, aggadah is a form of religious metaphor, a mirror that enables us to form mental images of the indescribable.

Out of the travails through which the world is passing, a new order is bound to emerge based on a knowledge of the universal Spirit. But this cannot be achieved by the efforts of politicians, diplomats, and administrators whose vision is warped by narrow considerations of personal, national, and racial self-interest. The transformation can be brought about only by divinely inspired saints and sages who have experienced the universal vision of Truth or God, who are perfectly selfless and whose hearts are ever filled with love for all. (...) International conflicts, religious wrangles, social injustices, economic exploitations, and political tyrannies are all found, in the ultimate analysis, to spring from selfishness born of the failure to realize the unity and universality of the Spirit.

Loss cannot comprehend gain. Lack cannot comprehend growth. Vacuum cannot comprehend space. Nothingness cannot comprehend awareness. Growth cannot comprehend stagnation. Progress cannot comprehend inaction. Speed cannot comprehend inactivity. Calmness cannot comprehend agitation. Matter cannot comprehend nonexistence. Nature cannot comprehend emptiness. Illusion cannot comprehend reality. Nowhere cannot comprehend somewhere. Darkness cannot comprehend light. Chaos cannot comprehend order. Sound cannot comprehend silence. Chance cannot comprehend fate. Distance cannot comprehend separation. Error cannot comprehend truth. Force cannot comprehend rest. Confusion cannot comprehend harmony. Ignorance cannot comprehend intelligence. Oblivion cannot comprehend consciousness. Stillness cannot comprehend motion. Death cannot comprehend life.

Heed the words of Gautama Buddha, spoken 2,600 years ago: “Do not believe in what you have heard; do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations; do not believe anything because it is rumored and spoken of by many; do not believe merely because the written statements of some old sage are produced; do not believe in conjectures; do not believe in that as a truth to which you have become attached by habit; do not believe merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. After observation and analysis, when it agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”1 Remember, nothing within the spirit realm can harm you as long as you maintain control and authority over your life. You should use your relationship with the spirit realm only to supplement—not substitute—your life. In

Awareness is the stepping stone to truth, truth is the stepping stone to light, and light is the stepping stone to God. Existence is the stepping stone to time, time is the stepping stone to reality, and reality is the stepping stone to experience. Virtue is the stepping stone to love, love is the stepping stone to enlightenment, and enlightenment is the stepping stone to freedom. Valor is the stepping stone to hope, hope is the stepping stone to faith, and enlightenment is the stepping stone to miracles. Compassion is the stepping stone to understanding, understanding is the stepping stone to peace, and peace is the stepping stone to humanity. Humility is the stepping stone to patience, patience is the stepping stone to discipline, and discipline is the stepping stone to character. Contentment is the stepping stone to fulfillment, fulfillment is the stepping stone to happiness, and happiness is the stepping stone to laughter.

Why, Uruvi always wondered, would Queen Madri consign herself to the flames, when no queen before her had joined their husband in the funeral pyre? Moreover, why would the mother of tiny, helpless six-month-old twins, Nakul and Sahadeva, kill herself and leave them orphaned and under the care of her husband’s first wife? It was strange. Had Madri, too, been mortally wounded like her husband, King Pandu, when they had been attacked? Had she been able to talk to Kunti before she died? Had Shakuni played up the curse of the sage to his advantage after all? If he could instigate Duryodhana to burn the Pandavas and the Queen Mother in the lac palace, he would not have any qualms in murdering King Pandu too. The only person who probably knew the truth was Kunti—but she was an evasive lady who knew how to keep her secrets. Uruvi recalled how she had pestered her on her wedding day about whether she had any regrets, but had got nothing out of her.

I agreed to the trial only for the sake of Rama, not for my own.' ‘Don’t I know that.' ‘But again … will my decision haunt me forever?’ ‘Till you take decisions for Rama’s sake and not yours, it will continue to pursue you, Sita. Look at yourself. You are enduring great pain. You think you are enduring it for the sake of someone else. You think that you have performed your duty for the sake of someone else. Your courage, your self-confidence … you have surrendered everything to others. What have you saved for yourself?’ ‘What is “I”, sister? Who am I?’ Ahalya smiled. ‘The greatest of sages and philosophers have spent their lifetimes in search of an answer to this question. You means you, nothing else. You are not just the wife of Rama. There is something more in you, something that is your own. No one counsels women to find out what that something more is. If men’s pride is in wealth, or valour, or education, or caste–sect, for women it lies in fidelity, motherhood. No one advises women to transcend that pride. Most often, women don’t realize that they are part of the wider world. They limit themselves to an individual, to a household, to a family’s honour. Conquering the ego becomes the goal of spirituality for men. For women, to nourish that ego and to burn themselves to ashes in it becomes the goal. Sita, try to understand who you are, what the goal of your life is. It is not easy at all. But don’t give up. You will discover the truth in the end. You have that ability. You have saved Sri Ramachandra, can’t you save yourself? Don’t grieve over what has already happened. It is all for your own good, and is part of the process of self-realization. Be happy. Observe nature and the evolution of life. Notice the continual changes in them. The forest doesn’t comprise ashrams alone. There are also people of many races in it. Observe their lives. You belong to this whole world, not just to Rama.

If they understand that their paativratyam and fidelity are like these sand pots, they will be able to live in peace.’ Sita was confused. ‘To make this pot, you need a lot of concentration. Those who did not know this thought I was making a miracle happen by virtue of my chastity, my paativratyam. Since there was no flaw in my character anyway, I let them think what they liked. Concentration can be broken at any time. The cause may be anything. In my case, a man became the cause of distraction. My husband was enraged. He believed that my paativratyam was violated by the mere act of looking at that man. A good pot is a product of many things—practice, concentration, sand, the right amount of water and so on. Sage Jamadagni was a man of great wisdom, yet he did not understand such a simple truth. But such is the wisdom of these spiritual seekers. No matter how much wisdom they earn through penance, they continue to have a dogmatic view on the paativratyam of their wives.’ Sarcasm was evident in Renuka’s voice.

Truth has nowhere to hide in the world. Time has nowhere to hide in the stars. Fate has nowhere to hide in the universe. Nature has nowhere to hide in the world. Reality has nowhere to hide in the stars. God has nowhere to hide in the universe. Land has nowhere to hide in the world. Light has nowhere to hide in the stars. Love has nowhere to hide in the universe. Imagination has nowhere to hide in the world. Science has nowhere to hide in the stars. Spirituality has nowhere to hide in the universe. Intelligence has nowhere to hide in the world. Creation has nowhere to hide in the stars. Life has nowhere to hide in the universe. Silence has nowhere to hide in the world. Sound has nowhere to hide in the stars. Awareness has nowhere to hide in the universe. The past has nowhere to hide in the world. The present has nowhere to hide in the stars. The future has nowhere to hide in the universe. Chance has nowhere to hide in the world. Destiny has nowhere to hide in the stars. Eternity has nowhere to hide in the universe.

Paradox is any self-contradictory proposition that, when investigated, may prove to be well-founded or true. Once understood, it opens the gateway to higher wisdom. But how can contradictory principles both be true? As the Buddhist Riddle of Five Truths puts it: “It is right. It is wrong. It is both right and wrong. It is neither right nor wrong. All exist simultaneously.” Charles Dickens expressed the paradox of his era, equally true today, when he wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,” going on to describe that time as one of belief and incredulity, light and darkness, hope and despair. Two opposing statements can each be true depending on the observer: it’s true that spiders are merciless killers from the viewpoint of tiny insects caught in their webs—but for most humans, nearly all spiders are harmless creatures. A story of the Sufi sage Mullah Nasruddin expresses the nature of paradox when he’s asked to arbitrate between two men with opposing views. Hearing the first man, he remarks, “You’re right.” When he hears the second man, he also says, “You’re right.” When a bystander points out, “They can’t both be right,” the mullah scratches his head and says, “You’re right.” Let’s go deeper and consider four central sets of paradoxical truths: * Time is real. It moves from past to present to future. * There is no time, no past, no future—only the eternal present. * You possess free will and can thus take responsibility for your choices. * Free will is an illusion—your choices are influenced, even predetermined, by all that preceded them. * You are, or possess, a separate inner self existing within a body. * No separation exists—you are a part of the same Consciousness shining through billions of eyes. * Death is an inevitable reality you’ll meet at the end of life. * The death of the inner self is an illusion. Life is eternal. Must you choose one assertion and reject the other? Or is there a way to meaningfully resolve and even reconcile such apparent contradictions?

considerable intellectual achievement. In particular, we should take note that this attitude enabled Newton to explore the conjectured consequences of philosophic questions as a form of “dreaming,” without thereby necessarily undermining in any way the results of the Principia, without thereby producing a “philosophical romance” in the way that Descartes was said to have done. I repeat what Newton said in the last paragraph of that preface: “And although the whole of philosophy is not immediately evident, still it is better to add something to our knowledge day by day than to fill up men’s minds in advance with the preconceptions of hypotheses.” Certain fundamental truths, such as the universality of the force of gravity acting according to the inverse-square law, were derived directly from mathematics; but in Newton’s mind even such a law—once found—had to be fitted into his general scheme of thought, and he came to believe that certain aspects of this law had been known to the ancient sages. Following the reorientation of Newton’s philosophy of nature, he came to believe that interparticle forces of attraction and repulsion exist. Such forces, according to Newton, are sufficiently short-range in their action (as he makes quite explicit in query 31 of the Opticks) that they do not raise a major problem of understanding their mode of action. They do not, in other words, fall into the category of the forces acting at a distance. His studies of matter, and in particular of alchemy, had made the existence of these forces seem reasonable. But does the reasonableness of such short-range forces provide a warrant for belief in the existence of long-range forces acting over huge distances? Consider the gravitational force between the sun and the earth: this force must act through a distance of about one hundred million miles. Even worse from the conceptual point of view is the force between the sun and Saturn, some thousands of millions of miles. Eventually Newton was to conclude that comets are a sort of planet, with the result that the solar gravitational force must extend

I have gone about my life concealing my acrimony behind a joviality too insincere to be borne. Yet you understood me as none other. Indeed, you accused me of shielding my truths—that I bore scars too ugly to reveal, that I suffered wounds too profound to share. You alone have understood the pitiable charade and had the spirit to hold me accountable. Our sages were known to say, our work on earth is only to illuminate what is hidden within. Like a brilliant star from above, your light has illuminated my path and I am a better man for it. Allow me to act in kind. Allow me to be your champion, as you have been mine. Once, long ago, you told me how you sought the North Star in the evening’s sky. Its presence brought you solace in a world that cheated you of your mother’s love. You seek answers in the heavens to fill an emptiness in your soul, for the stars are eternal and will not forsake you. You needn’t go on searching, my love. You are not lost, nor are you alone. I will be your solace here on earth. Make me the happiest of men and let your home be here, with me.

So in the library there are also books containing falsehoods. ...” “Monsters exist because they are part of the divine plan, and in the horrible features of those same monsters the power of the Creator is revealed. And by divine plan, too, there exist also books by wizards, the cabalas of the Jews, the fables of pagan poets, the lies of the infidels. It was the firm and holy conviction of those who founded the abbey and sustained it over the centuries that even in books of falsehood, to the eyes of the sage reader, a pale reflection of the divine wisdom can shine. And therefore the library is a vessel of these, too. But for this very reason, you understand, it cannot be visited by just anyone. And furthermore,” the abbot added, as if to apologize for the weakness of this last argument, “a book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements, clumsy hands. If for a hundred and a hundred years everyone had been able freely to handle our codices, the majority of them would no longer exist. So the librarian protects them not only against mankind but also against nature, and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion, the enemy of truth.

Truth is elusive, subtle, manysided. You know, Priscilla, there’s an old Hindu story about Truth. It seems a brash young warrior sought the hand of a beautiful princess. Her father, the king, thought he was a bit too cocksure and callow. He decreed that the warrior could only marry the princess after he had found Truth. So the warrior set out into the world on a quest for Truth. He went to temples and monasteries, to mountaintops where sages meditated, to remote forests where ascetics scourged themselves, but nowhere could he find Truth. Despairing one day and seeking shelter from a thunderstorm, he took refuge in a musty cave. There was an old crone there, a hag with matted hair and warts on her face, the skin hanging loose from her bony limbs, her teeth yellow and rotting, her breath malodorous. But as he spoke to her, with each question she answered, he realized he had come to the end of his journey: she was Truth. They spoke all night, and when the storm cleared, the warrior told her he had fulfilled his quest. ‘Now that I have found Truth,’ he said, ‘what shall I tell them at the palace about you?’ The wizened old creature smiled. ‘Tell them,’ she said, ‘tell them that I am young and beautiful.

It is fatally easy, under the conditions of the modern world, for a writer of genius to conceive of himself as a Messiah. Other writers, indeed, may have had profound insights before him; but we readily believe that everything is relative to its period of society, and that these insights have now lost their validity; a new generation is a new world, so there is always a chance, if not of delivering a wholly new gospel, of delivering one as good as new. Or the messiahship may take the form of revealing for the first time the gospel of some dead sage, which no one has understood before; which owing to the backward and confused state of men's minds has lain unknown to this very moment; or it may even go back to the lost Atlantis and the ineffable wisdom of primitive peoples. A writer who is fired with such a conviction is likely to have some devoted disciples; but for posterity he is liable to become, what he will be for the majority of his contemporaries, merely one among many entertainers. And the pity is that the man may have had something to say of the greatest importance: but to announce, as your own discovery, some truth long known to mankind, is to secure immediate attention at the price of ultimate neglect.

Simon, mark well my words! Wives are the devil ­ and I know!' `In truth,' Alan sighed, `I am the only wise one amongst us all.' `Art a silly lad!' Fulk rumbled, and cast him an affectionate though fiery glance. `Alan speaks sooth for once,' Simon said, and placed his finger on Margaret's indignant lips. He had her in his arms again, and like a needle to the magnet, Jeanne had drawn near to her Geoffrey. `For Alan throughout hath known that needs must I fall, and at Margot's feet.' `Ah, and he knew that I loved thee, even before I knew it myself,' Margaret cried. `Methinks he hath worked very quietly to bring about our happiness. And yet he will not seek his own.' `I observe thy folly,' he said, `and know mine own wisdom. That is happiness.' Jeanne looked at Geoffrey, and a smile passed between them, of boundless conceit. Margaret stole her hand into Simon's, smiling also. Not one of them answered Alan, and he laughed, leaning on his father's shoulder, and surveying his two friends with soft, satisfied eyes. `Are my sage words beneath contempt?' he asked. `Ay,' Simon answered simply, and looked down into Margaret's face for a long moment. A deep breath he drew, and glanced again at Alan. `Beneath contempt,' said Simon the Coldheart.

Where you find truth you can also find lies. Where you find facts you can also find opinions. Where you find proof you can also find uncertainty. Where you find faith you can also find doubt. Where you find pleasure you can also find pain. Where you find joy you can also find sorrow. Where you find hope you can also find despair. Where you find faith you can also find doubt. Where you find love you can also find hate. Where you find light you can also find darkness. Where you find order you can also find chaos. Where you find life you can also find death. You lose yourself in envy but find yourself in contentment. You lose yourself in greed but find yourself in charity. You lose yourself in bitterness but find yourself in gratitude. You lose yourself in anger but find yourself in compassion. You lose yourself in malice but find yourself in kindness. You lose yourself in ignorance but find yourself in truth. You lose yourself in misery but find yourself in expectation. You lose yourself in fear but find yourself in valor. You lose yourself in ego but find yourself in modesty. You lose yourself in hate but find yourself in love. You lose yourself in life but find yourself in destiny. You lose yourself in time but find yourself in eternity.

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face/ I felt giddy all the way back to the hotel. I giggled. I was happy. Sage leaned back in his seat and studied me, an amused smile on his face. “What?” I asked. He shook his head. “You’re making fun of me,” I said. “I’m not,” Sage assured me. I knew he was telling the truth. His eyes were affectionate. I was his, not just in the past but today and forever, and nothing had ever made me feel more secure. I was about to pull into the hotel when Sage reminded me of the snacks-the whole reason we’d supposedly gone out. I swung a wild U-turn that slammed Sage against his door. “Taking up stunt driving?” he asked. “Can you imagine walking in without the snacks? Rayna would be all over me.” “You don’t think she will be anyway? It’s been a long snack run.” “It hasn’t been that long,” I said. “Has it?” He scrunched his brows. “What are you trying to say?” I giggled again, and we pulled into a gas station market. Sage wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned against his chest as we walked in step into the store; he held my hand as I cruised the tiny aisles; he stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders as we paid. I felt normal. I imagined how things would be after everything was over: after we met the dark lady, after we got the Elixir, after we found my dad. Sage and I could travel the world together: me taking pictures, him painting, always coming back together at the end of the day to share what we’d done and lie in each other’s arms.

And, in truth, while our friend smiled at these wild fables, he sighed in the same breath to think how the once genial earth produces, in every successive generation, fewer flowers than used to gladden the preceding ones. Not that the modes and seeming possibilities of human enjoyment are rarer in our refined and softened era,—on the contrary, they never before were nearly so abundant,—but that mankind are getting so far beyond the childhood of their race that they scorn to be happy any longer. A simple and joyous character can find no place for itself among the sage and sombre figures that would put his unsophisticated cheerfulness to shame. The entire system of man's affairs, as at present established, is built up purposely to exclude the careless and happy soul. The very children would upbraid the wretched individual who should endeavor to take life and the world as w what we might naturally suppose them meant for—a place and opportunity for enjoyment. It is the iron rule in our day to require an object and a purpose in life. It makes us all parts of a complicated scheme of progress, which can only result in our arrival at a colder and drearier region than we were born in. It insists upon everybody's adding somewhat—a mite, perhaps, but earned by incessant effort—to an accumulated pile of usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with even heavier thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No life now wanders like an unfettered stream; there is a mill-wheel for the tiniest rivulet to turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a resolution to go all right.

WRITING GUIDES AND REFERENCES: A SELECTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell (Norton) The Art of Time in Memoir, by Sven Birkerts (Graywolf Press) The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard (Harper & Row) Writing with Power, by Peter Elbow (Oxford University Press) Writing Creative Nonfiction, edited by Carolyn Forché and Philip Gerard (Story Press) Tough, Sweet and Stuffy, by Walker Gibson (Indiana University Press) The Situation and the Story, by Vivian Gornick (Farrar, Straus and Giroux) Intimate Journalism: The Art and Craft of Reporting Everyday Life, by Walt Harrington (Sage) On Writing, by Stephen King (Scribner) Telling True Stories, edited by Mark Kramer and Wendy Call (Plume) Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, by Anne Lamott (Pantheon) The Forest for the Trees, by Betsy Lerner (Riverhead) Unless It Moves the Human Heart, by Roger Rosenblatt (Ecco) The Elements of Style, by William Strunk, Jr., and E. B. White (Macmillan) Clear and Simple as the Truth, by Francis-Noel Thomas and Mark Turner (Princeton University Press) Word Court, by Barbara Wallraff (Harcourt) Style, by Joseph M. Williams and Gregory G. Colomb (Longman) On Writing Well, by William Zinsser (Harper & Row) The Chicago Manual of Style, by University of Chicago Press staff (University of Chicago Press) Modern English Usage, by H. W. Fowler, revised edition by Sir Ernest Gowers (Oxford University Press) Modern American Usage, by Wilson Follett (Hill and Wang) Words into Type, by Marjorie E. Skillin and Robert M. Gay (Prentice-Hall) To CHRIS, SAMMY, NICK, AND MADDIE, AND TO TOMMY, JAMIE, THEODORE, AND PENNY

The Warrior His gift is the gift of passion and a commitment to something larger than himself in the world. The Warrior fights for what he loves. He has a mission that is bigger than his woman, his relationship or himself. He’s not a fighter, per se, but he aligns with what he cares about. By loving something bigger than himself, he inspires respect, honor, and a woman’s devotion. The Warrior is about living life on your own terms. The Sage His gift is the gift of integrity and an unbreakable trust. A man can see a woman’s beauty, communicate his love, and direct and offer his passion, but all that is nothing without trust. A woman never fully surrenders herself until she feels trust. Trust is not simply upholding vows of monogamy. It’s trusting that you truly see and know her. It’s trusting you can take her somewhere she can’t get to on her own. It’s trusting she can relax into your leadership and directionality. The opportunity of The Sage is integrity. Trust what you know. Use your word as a bond and do the right thing. Note: The Sage and the Warrior are partners in spirit. The Warrior, without integrity of mind, body, and spirit – and without the power of his truth – can do only harm. If you’ve struck out to fight the good fight and found yourself beaten by anger or misdirected energy, or you have lost the support of your woman, you likely lacked the integrity of The Sage. With greater alignment of values and actions, you can act on what you care about in a good way and have an impact you cannot have without it. If you’re not getting the support and the speed you want in your mission, check on where you might be lacking integrity.

There is no road wider than ignorance, no path narrower than virtue, no bridge sturdier than understanding, no shortcut safer than prudence, and no highway quicker than enlightenment. There is no road wider than adversity, no path narrower than bitterness, no bridge sturdier than patience, no shortcut safer than kindness, and no highway quicker than faith. There is no road wider than anger, no path narrower than expectation, no bridge sturdier than hope, no shortcut safer than fortitude, and no highway quicker than love. There is no road wider than discomfort, no path narrower than grief, no bridge sturdier than joy, no shortcut safer than contentment, and no highway quicker than fulfillment. There is no road wider than strife, no path narrower than enmity, no bridge sturdier than faithfulness, no shortcut safer than friendship, and no highway quicker than compassion. There is no road wider than indiscipline, no path narrower than arrogance, no bridge sturdier than humility, no shortcut safer than prudence, and no highway quicker than grace. There is no road wider than injustice, no path narrower than integrity, no bridge sturdier than truth, no shortcut safer than tolerance, and no highway quicker than mercy. There is no road wider than uncertainty, no path narrower than guilt, no bridge sturdier than innocence, no shortcut safer than caution, and no highway quicker than proof. There is no road wider than incompetence, no path narrower than excellence, no bridge sturdier than focus, no shortcut safer than diligence, and no highway quicker than ingenuity. There is no road wider than misfortune, no path narrower than fate, no bridge sturdier than time, no shortcut safer than chance, and no highway quicker than eternity.

I do dimly perceive that whilst everything around me is ever changing, ever dying there is underlying all that change a living power that is changeless, that holds all together, that creates, dissolves and recreates. That informing power of spirit is God, and since nothing else that I see merely through the senses can or will persist, He alone is. And is this power benevolent or malevolent? I see it as purely benevolent, for I can see that in the midst of death life persists, in the midst of untruth truth persists, in the midst of darkness light persists. Hence I gather that God is life, truth, light. He is love. He is the supreme Good. But He is no God who merely satisfies the intellect, if He ever does. God to be God must rule the heart and transform it. He must express himself in every smallest act of His votary. This can only be done through a definite realization, more real than the five senses can ever produce. Sense perceptions can be and often are false and deceptive, however real they may appear to us. Where there is realization outside the senses it is infallible. It is proved not by extraneous evidence but in the transformed conduct and character of those who have felt the real presence of God within. Such testimony is to be found in the experiences of an unbroken line of prophets and sages in all countries and climes. To reject this evidence is to deny oneself. This realization is preceded by an immovable faith. He who would in his own person test the fact of God's presence can do so by a living faith and since faith itself cannot be proved by extraneous evidence the safest course is to believe in the moral government of the world and therefore in the supremacy of the moral law, the law of truth and love. Exercise of faith will be the safest where there is a clear determination summarily to reject all that is contrary to truth and love. I confess that I have no argument to convince through reason. Faith transcends reason. All that I can advise is not to attempt the impossible.

That I haven’t told you the parable of the man, the boy, and the mule.” Cettie nodded eagerly. He stared down at the book, thumbing through its pages. “I heard this one when I first went away to study the Mysteries. It was shared with all of us, but I don’t think all of us heard it the same way. That’s the thing about stories. They can touch on truths that some people just are not ready to hear. The tale goes like this. Long before the first flying castles and sky ships and cauldrons of molten steel—before the Fells—life was simpler. A man and his son needed to sell their mule to buy food to last the winter. So they started walking to get to the market, which was very far. They met a fellow traveler along the way who criticized them for not riding the mule. So the man, realizing that his beast of burden wasn’t being used for its purpose, put his son on it to ride. But when they arrived at the first village on their path, some men in the square scoffed and said how inconsiderate the son was for making his father walk. They stopped and watered the beast, and so the father ordered the boy to walk while he rode. Again, they reached the next village, and what did they hear? Some washerwomen complained that the father must be evil to force his son to walk while he rode. Ashamed by their words, the father decided to change yet again. Do you know what he did?” Cettie shook her head no, eager for him to continue. Fitzroy wagged his finger at her. “So they both rode the mule into the next town. By this time, the mule was getting very tired, and when they reached the next village, they were ridiculed for being lazy and working the poor beast half to death! The market was in the very next town, and they feared they’d not be able to sell the poor creature, now it was so spent. And so the father and son cut down a sapling, lashed the mule to the pole, and carried it to the next town. You can imagine what the townsfolk thought as they saw the father and son laboring and exhausted as they approached the town. Who were these country bumpkins who carried a mule on their own shoulders? As they crossed the bridge into town, suffering the jeers and taunts of passersby, one of the ropes broke loose, and the mule kicked free. The boy dropped his end of the pole, and the beast fell into the river and drowned.” “No!” Cettie said, mouth wide open. Fitzroy nodded sagely. “A man with a crooked staff had been following them into town. As

For while asceticism is certainly an important strand in the frugal tradition, so, too, is the celebration of simple pleasures. Indeed, one argument that is made repeatedly in favor of simple living is that it helps one to appreciate more fully elementary and easily obtained pleasures such as the enjoyment of companionship and natural beauty. This is another example of something we have already noted: the advocates of simple living do not share a unified and consistent notion of what it involves. Different thinkers emphasize different aspects of the idea, and some of these conflict. Truth, unlike pleasure, has rarely been viewed as morally suspect. Its value is taken for granted by virtually all philosophers. Before Nietzsche, hardly anyone seriously considered as a general proposition the idea that truth may not necessarily be beneficial.26 There is a difference, though, between the sort of truth the older philosophers had in mind and the way truth is typically conceived of today. Socrates, the Epicureans, the Cynics, the Stoics, and most of the other sages assume that truth is readily available to anyone with a good mind who is willing to think hard. This is because their paradigm of truth—certainly the truth that matters most—is the sort of philosophical truth and enlightenment that can be attained through a conversation with like-minded friends in the agora or the garden. Searching for and finding such truth is entirely compatible with simple living. But today things are different. We still enjoy refined conversation about philosophy, science, religion, the arts, politics, human nature, and many other areas of theoretical interest. And these conversations do aim at truth, in a sense. As Jürgen Habermas argues, building on Paul Grice’s analysis of conversational conventions, regardless of how we actually behave and our actual motivations, our discussions usually proceed on the shared assumption that we are all committed to establishing the truth about the topic under discussion.27 But a different paradigm of truth now dominates: the paradigm of truth established by science. For the most part this is not something that ordinary people can pursue by themselves through reflection, conversation, or even backyard observation and experiment. Does dark matter exist? Does eating blueberries decrease one’s chances of developing cancer? Is global warming producing more hurricanes? Does early involvement with music and dance make one smarter or morally better? Are generous people happier than misers? People may discuss such questions around the table. But in most cases when we talk about such things, we are ultimately prepared to defer to the authority of the experts whose views and findings are continually reported in the media.

... we find a complete contradiction in our wishing to live without suffering, a contradiction that is therefore implied by the frequently used phrase “blessed life.” This will certainly be clear to the person who has fully grasped my discussion that follows. This contradiction is revealed in this ethic of pure reason itself by the fact that the Stoic is compelled to insert a recommendation of suicide in his guide to the blissful life (for this is what his ethics always remains). This is like the costly phial of poison to be found among the magnificent ornaments and apparel of oriental despots, and is for the case where the sufferings of the body, incapable of being philosophized away by any principles and syllogisms, are paramount and incurable. Thus its sole purpose, namely blessedness, is frustrated, and nothing remains as a means of escape from pain except death. But then death must be taken with unconcern, just as is any other medicine. Here a marked contrast is evident between the Stoic ethics and all those other ethical systems mentioned above. These ethical systems make virtue directly and in itself the aim and object, even with the most grievous sufferings, and will not allow a man to end his life in order to escape from suffering. But not one of them knew how to express the true reason for rejecting suicide, but they laboriously collected fictitious arguments of every kind. This true reason will appear in the fourth book in connexion with our discussion. But the above-mentioned contrast reveals and confirms just that essential difference to be found in the fundamental principle between the Stoa, really only a special form of eudaemonism, and the doctrines just mentioned, although both often agree in their results, and are apparently related. But the above-mentioned inner contradiction, with which the Stoic ethics is affected even in its fundamental idea, further shows itself in the fact that its ideal, the Stoic sage as represented by this ethical system, could never obtain life or inner poetical truth, but remains a wooden, stiff lay-figure with whom one can do nothing. He himself does not know where to go with his wisdom, and his perfect peace, contentment, and blessedness directly contradict the nature of mankind, and do not enable us to arrive at any perceptive representation thereof. Compared with him, how entirely different appear the overcomers of the world and voluntary penitents, who are revealed to us, and are actually produced, by the wisdom of India; how different even the Saviour of Christianity, that excellent form full of the depth of life, of the greatest poetical truth and highest significance, who stands before us with perfect virtue, holiness, and sublimity, yet in a state of supreme suffering.

The only absolute truth in the world of humans is love – there is nothing higher, there is nothing greater.

Starbucks. The calm and connection marked a shift from grasping for a receding future to the feeling of inhabiting a breathtaking if transient present. It was a shift, for me, compelled by a cosmological counterpart to the guidance offered through the ages by poets and philosophers, writers and artists, spiritual sages and mindfulness teachers, among countless others who tell us the simple but surprisingly subtle truth that life is in the here and now. It’s

Methinks thou art a Laggard with the Truth, Marcellus. Thou wert always a deceitful child.

The world is there for both sage and student, and both must work and serve—the difference being mental only. Illusionism is not the doctrine except as an intermediate stage towards truth, which is higher. One must participate in God’s work by assisting evolution and redeeming the world, not squat idly in peace alone.

Great people have often said, truth alone triumphs. I am no great but a plain human, so I say, love alone triumphs.

Using trickery on the trickster to mend their ways, is not trickery, but the rightful use of intelligence.

once heard a short saying about Jesus, comparing him to the other religious leaders. It stuck in my head and goes something like this: “Founders of other religions claim they are a prophet to help you find God. Jesus came to say, ‘I am God come to find you.’ ” The Hindu Vedas say, “Truth is one, but the sages speak of it in many different ways.” Buddha said, “My teachings point the way to attainment of the truth.” Muhammad said, “The truth has been revealed to me.” Jesus said,“I am the truth.

Krishna said: "The sages say that relinquishing of all works that are prompted by desire, is renunciation.  Surrendering the fruits of all works is called Tyaga.  Some say that all work should be abandoned as evil and others say that works of sacrifice, gifts and penance should not be given up.  But I will tell you the real truth of the matter. "Work of any kind should not be given up.  Work has to be performed.  But it should be done with surrender of all attachment for the fruits.  This does not mean that one should renounce duty.  It should be performed and only the fruits and attachment should be renounced.  The doer who is free from attachment, who has no feeling of 'I', who is steady and zealous, who is unmoved by success or failure whose mind is unattached everywhere, who has subdued his self and has no desires, is worthy of becoming one with God.

There is a oneness that runs in your veins, as also a dumbness. If you're somehow able to grasp this unity of all that is, and live your life accordingly, well then, in time you will become a sage. Otherwise you will live and die a dumbass, no matter what your age.

The truth is that the Tao isn’t just about freedom and personal liberty ; it is also about discipline and diligence. While everything in existence is indeed the Tao, our path through existence is also the Tao. This may seem like a paradox, but it really isn’t. We can see it clearly by following the thought process of the sages. Think of existence as a forest. When we are in the forest, we have the ability to go forth in any direction. The forest doesn’t care which path we take. It is the nature of the forest to offer all directions and all possibilities. This is the way of the forest—in other words, the Tao of existence.

Sage,” he grits out between clenched teeth, “either stop moving or get fucked.

Russell Seitz and the defenders of tobacco invoked liberty, too. But as the philosopher Isaiah Berlin sagely pointed out, liberty for wolves means death to lambs.124 Our society has always understood that freedoms

THE SAGE A person of wisdom should be truthful, without arrogance, without deceit, not slanderous and not hateful. The wise person should go beyond the evil of greed and miserliness. To have your mind set on calmness, you must take power over sleepiness, drowsiness and lethargy. There is no place for laziness and no recourse to pride. Do not be led into lying, do not be attached to forms. You must see through all pride and fare along without violence. Do not get excited by what is old, do not be contented with what is new. Do not grieve for what is lost or be controlled by desire. adapted from the Sutta-Nipata, translated by H. Saddhatissa

My whole life, I’ve been described as icy, bitchy, and rude. I know I’m not super warm or overly kind, but the truth is, I’m just shy.

Esperanza Impossible Sonnet 5 Our whole life we're taught to live behind the veil, It is forbidden to even dream of removing it. To really seal the deal society calls this tradition, So that we feel guilty if we cross our ancestral limit. This is how habits are proudly passed on as heritage, And bigotry as the highest form of enlightenment. Thus, integration is deemed as the ultimate treachery, And peace remains a matter of armchair amusement. If you are to choose between tradition and humanity, I say, treat your ancestors as children not sage. Those who pass on division and discrimination, Deserve neither seriousness nor allegiance. Truth is not the journey from one veil to another. Truth involves peeling the veil one layer after another.

What I am saying is that sometimes we can’t accept the truth that is right in front of our eyes. And that sometimes the mad people of one era become the sages of the next.

To the Sage Donahue’s of the world. Don’t you dare apologize for becoming what you had to in order to survive. You forged yourself from the flames. Bow to no one.

Sage was born and raised a Twisted King. And I’m just a girl who doesn’t stack up to the parade of women always prancing through here.

I thought you said we were destiny?” Sage says after me as I make my way down the steps. But I don’t look back, no matter how much I want to. “And I thought you didn’t believe in fate.

Because the moment I spot Sage from across the room, my heart is lighter in my chest. It does that thing where it floats. Or swoops. Or maybe it plummets. Because inside, I’m weightless, and I can barely handle it.

Sage Jackson kicks my senses out the front door. And when his eyes lock on mine from across the room, for a split second, I’m tempted to let him turn me into my mother. This is bad.

I hate that he brings out that hint of jealousy when I’m not someone who normally feels it. Especially when I don’t blame them or him. They’re beautiful and Sage is… everything.

Sage is a Twisted King, and I’m the daughter of one. Destined or not, this is never going to be what I want. It’s time to lay my teenage fantasies to rest.

And I really wish I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when Sage’s bike comes into view, and I know he’s safe. Because I don’t know how to leave him, even if he can’t give me a reason to stay.

You’re a biker now. I told you I’m not getting involved with a biker.” “And you’re trouble. My biggest fucking headache.” Sage cups my jaw in his hand, all the warmth I’ve ever needed in his touch. “But this is home.

I don’t know if he’s talking about the compound or us. Because where I live has never mattered as much as the safety Sage brings me.

You seriously fucked Kane’s daughter? And you managed to live? I think I might actually like you after all, Sage.