If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
God is, in truth, the whole universe: what was, what is and what beyond shall ever be. He is the God of life immortal and of all life that lives by food. His hands and feet are everywhere. He has heads and mouths everywhere. He sees all, He hears all. He is in all, and He Is. – Anonymous
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
If they want me to have mysticism, okay, I’ve got it.
I’m a mystic, but only in my body,
My soul is simple and doesn’t think. – Alberto Caeiro
L’Avventura,’ Dad said, ‘has the sort of ellipsis ending most American audiences would rather undergo a root canal than be left with, not only because they loathe anything left to the imagination-we’re talking about the country that invented spandex-but also because they are a confident, self-assured nation. They know Family. They know Right from Wrong. They know God-many of them attest to daily chats with the man. And the idea that none of us can truly know anything at all-not the lives of our friends or family, not even ourselves-is a thought they’d rather be shot in the arm with their own semi-automatic rifle than face head-on. Personally, I think there’s something terrific about not knowing, relinquishing man’s feeble attempt to control. When you throw up your hands, say, “Who knows?” you can get on with the sheer gift of being alive. – Marisha Pessl
Most of us are like those Russian nesting dolls, presenting a slightly different visage to the world depending on which world we’re dealing with at the time. The outermost doll isn’t a lie; mine still offers part of who I am, but it’s not all of who I am. As I get closer to people, the nesting dolls open and the masks change. But it’s a rare person whom I allow to see what’s at my core: my innermost thoughts and fears, my dreams and desires, my pettiness and peevishness. – Paul Asay
