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Yad Vashem
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The bounded is loathed by its possessor. The same dull round, even of a universe, would soon become a mill with complicated wheels.
William Blake, There is No Natural Religion
I go out of the darkness
Onto a road of darkness
Lit only by the far off
Moon on the edge of the mountains.Lady Izumi Shikibu, c. 1000 A.D., tr. Kenneth Rexroth
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets, Little Gidding
Let the Priests of the Raven of dawn, no longer, in deadly black, with hoarse note, curse the sons of joy. Nor his accepted brethren, whom, tyrant, he calls free, lay the bound or build the roof. Nor pale religious letchery call that Virginity that wishes but acts not!
For every thing that lives is Holy.William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
Eros the Limb-loosener shakes me again--
that sweet, bitter, impossible creature.Sappho (tr. Jim Powell)
Wild Nights--Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile--the Winds--
To a Heart in port--
Done with the Compass--
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden--
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor--Tonight--
In Thee!Emily Dickinson
O Reine des Bergers,
Porte aux travailleurs l'eau-de-vie,
Que leurs forces soient en paix
En attendant le bain dans la mer à midi.Rimbaud, Une Saison en Enfer
Look within. Within is the fountain of good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever dig.
Marcus Aurelius
Thine is the wisdom, Zeus, and thou commandest that even we, the mortals, shall taste wisdom by woe and suffering, for they make wise. Hope which has died lends us deep insight. Those torn by pain, they know man's ways and even God's. As in the time of rain gray waters drop incessantly, thus trickles pain into man's nights so full of fear and drips into his heart infusing wisdom. From God on high it cometh and we grow wise unwillingly.
Aeschylus, Agamemnon
O nobly-born, whatever fearful and terrifying visions thou mayst see, recognize them to be thine own thought-forms.
from the Bardo Thödol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead)
But that the child
walk in peace in her basilica,
The light there almost solid.Ezra Pound, Canto XCIII