I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore.
This universe is the wreckage of the infinite on the shores of the finite.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
I am forever walking upon these shores, Betwixt the sand and the foam, The high tide will erase my food prnts, And the wind will blow away the foam, But the sea and the shore will remain forver
The secret of success is to be in harmony with existence, to be always calm to let each wave of life wash us a little farther up the shore.
Be open to your dreams, people. Embrace that distant shore. Because our mortal journey is over all too soon.
--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to the ocean- Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.
There is a sea of consciousness that is universal, even though we each perceive it from our own shores, an awareness and a world that we all share, that can be experienced by every living being, yet is seldom seen by any.
One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
We live on an island surrounded by a sea of ignorance. As our island of knowledge grows, so does the shore of our ignorance.
And when I wake up it's wonderful, like I've been carried quietly onto a calm, peaceful shore, and the dream, and its meaning, has broken over me like a wave and is ebbing away now, leaving me with a single, solid certainty. I know now.
Here between the hither and the farther shore While time is withdrawn, consider the future And the past with an equal mind.
The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.
The sure-thing boat never gets far from shore.
When someone asks me about violence, I just find it incredible, because what it means is that the person who’s asking that question has absolutely no idea what black people have gone through, what black people have experienced in this country, since the time the first black person was kidnapped from the shores of Africa.
The American people cannot close their eyes to abuses of human rights and injustice, whether they occur among friend or adversary or even on our own shores.
Let no man in the world live in delusion. Without a Guru none can cross over to the other shore.
You never know what peace is until you walk on the shores or in the fields or along the winding red roads of Prince Edward Island in a summer twilight when the dew is falling and the old stars are peeping out and the sea keeps its mighty tryst with the little land it loves. You find your soul then. You realize that youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart.
There would be no chance at all of getting to know death if it happened only once. But fortunately, life is nothing but a continuing dance of birth and death, a dance of change. Every time I hear the rush of a mountain stream, or the waves crashing on the shore, or my own heartbeat, I hear the sound of impermanence. These changes, these small deaths, are our living links with death. They are death's pulses, death's heartbeat, prompting us to let go of all the things we cling to.
Metaphysics is a dark ocean without shores or lighthouse, strewn with many a philosophic wreck.
All human populations are in some sense immigrants. All hostility between different cultures in one place has an aspect of the classic immigrant grudge against the next boatload approaching the shore. To defend one’s home and fields and ancestral graves against invasion seems a right. But to claim unique possession – to compound the fact of settlement with the aspect of a landscape into an abstract of eternal and immutable ownership – is a joke.
All is going on as it was wont. The waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled upon the shore; the sea-birds soar and hover; the winds and clouds go forth upon their trackless flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.
You know a dream is like a river Ever changing as it flows. And a dreamer's just a vessel That must follow where it goes. Trying to learn from what's behind you And never knowing what's in store Makes each day a constant battle Just to stay between the shores.
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