Space, and space again, is the infinite deity which surrounds us and in which we are ourselves contained.
We are star stuff which has taken its destiny into its own hands. The loom of time and space works the most astonishing transformations of matter.
Psychedelics are not flashlights into the chaos of the Freudian unconscious, they are tools for mathematically unpacking your mind into a higher dimensional space. In the Newtonian and print created space that we are walking around in you, are like a self extracting archive, that hasn't self extracted itself yet.
We experience life as a continuity, and only after it falls away, after it becomes the past, do we see its discontinuities. The past, if there is such a thing, is mostly empty space, great expanses of nothing, in which significant persons and events float.
You are a multidimensiona l being because your human body houses your spirit body, and your spirit body is not limited by dimensions of time, space, or form. As you grow spiritually, you become more perceptive of these other dimensions.
If people can see Earth from up here, see it without those borders, see it without any differences in race or religion, they would have a completely different perspective. Because when you see it from that angle, you cannot think of your home or your country. All you can see is one Earth...
Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.
Architecture is bound to situation. And I feel like the site is a metaphysical link, a poetic link, to what a building can be.
What struck me most was the silence. It was a great silence, unlike any I have encountered on Earth, so vast and deep that I began to hear my own body: my heart beating, my blood vessels pulsing, even the rustle of my muscles moving over each other seemed audible. There were more stars in the sky than I had expected. The sky was deep black, yet at the same time bright with sunlight.
That Mars is inhabited by beings of some sort or other we may consider as certain as it is uncertain what these beings may be.
What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit.
Worry and worship cannot exist in the same space. One always displaces the other. Choose worship.
Neither a space station nor an enlightened mind can be realized in a day.
The river is now. This moment. This breath between us. The space between your heartbeats. The moment before you blink. The instant a thought flashes through your mind. It is everything that is around us. Life. Energy. Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you from then...to now...to tomorrow. Listen: you can hear the music of it. Of the passage of time.
We live on a minute island of known things. Our undiminished wonder at the mystery which surrounds us is what makes us human. In science fiction we can approach that mystery, not in small, everyday symbols, but in bigger ones of space and time.
That is the magic of travel. You leave your home secure in your own knowledge and identity. But as you travel, the world in all it's richness intervenes. You meet people you could not invent; you see scenes you could not imagine. Your own world, which was so large as to consume your whole life, becomes smaller and smaller until it is only one tiny dot in time and space. You return a different person.
We want to explore. We're curious people. Look back over history, people have put their lives at stake to go out and explore ... We believe in what we're doing. Now it's time to go.
I would like to die on Mars. Just not on impact.
The body is a vehicle for the mind, and that vehicle is how you travel through space.
With sturdy shoulders, space stands opposing all its weight to nothingness. Where space is, there is being.
Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.
The highest treason, the meanest treason, is to deny the holiness of this little blue planet on which we journey through the cold void of space.
Death makes me realize how deeply I have internalized the agnosticism I preach in all my books. I consider dogmatic belief and dogmatic denial very childish forms of conceit in a world of infinitely whirling complexity. None of us can see enough from one corner of space-time to know "all" about the rest of space-time.
These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves. From each of them goes out its own voice... and just as the touch of a button on our set will fill the room with music, so by taking down one of these volumes and opening it, one can call into range the voice of a man far distant in time and space, and hear him speaking to us, mind to mind, heart to heart.
Anyone who has become entranced by the sound of water drops in the darkness of a ruin can attest to the extraordinary capacity of the ear to carve a volume into the void of darkness. The space traced by the ear becomes a cavity sculpted in the interior of the mind.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: