Slumbering in every human being lies an infinity of possibilities, which one must not arouse in vain. For it is terrible when the whole man resonates with echoes and echoes, none becoming a real voice.
In you, I found infinity. In you, I was reborn
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy offers this definition of the word "Infinite". Infinite: Bigger than the biggest thing ever and then some. Much bigger than that in fact, really amazingly immense, a totally stunning size, "wow, that's big", time. Infinity is just so big that by comparison, bigness itself looks really titchy. Gigantic multiplied by colossal multiplied by staggeringly huge is the sort of concept we're trying to get across here.
Woman, nude, is the blue sky. Clouds and garments are an obstacle to contemplation. Beauty and infinity would be gazed upon unveiled.
The problems of human subjectivity replicate themselves at many different scales, like the overtones and undertones in a stringed instrument striking ghost-intervals up and down into infinity. This is not Hegel's ingenuity, it is his responsiveness to the organic structure in us that echoes itself throughout the whole architecture.
A very advanced master can glow so strongly that you see divine in them. You look into them and you see infinity constantly changing, evolving and radiating in new forms.
I am in terror of the infinity before me, having come through the one behind bringing no knowledge I can take on.
Our life is but a grain of sand in the indifferent ocean of infinity.
Infinity: Time on an ego trip.
I'm here for you in the same way that you're here for me, each person is an intricate piece of infinity.
Infinity converts the possible into the inevitable.
If you reject the infinite, you are stuck with the finite, and the finite is parochial. . . the best explanation of anything eventually involves universality, and therefore infinity. The reach of explanations cannot be limited by fiat.
A church is something very beautiful. It is nice when people feel happy in it. But I am not a religious man. Look at us, and then at the infinity of space. We are rather small insignificant creatures, wouldn’t you say?
One cannot long remain so absorbed in contemplation of emptiness without being increasingly attracted to it. In vain one bestows on it the name of infinity; this does not change its nature. When one feels such pleasure in non-existence, one's inclination can be completely satisfied only by completely ceasing to exist.
Thats how we survive infinity - we kill it by breaking it up into small bits.
Between earth and earth's atmosphere, the amount of water remains constant; there is never a drop more, never a drop less. This is a story of circular infinity, of a planet birthing itself.
Infinities and indivisibles transcend our finite understanding, the former on account of their magnitude, the latter because of their smallness; Imagine what they are when combined.
I mistrust the satisfaction which makes a display of the possession of Infinity; that is called fatuity in philosophic terms.
There are two infinities: God and stupidity.
I see the carpet reflecting that narratological structure of the storytelling, with Scheherazade as the outside frame story on the outside, with the stories woven on the inside. It's also demonstrative of the infinity of it, with no beginning and no end. The carpet is also a kind of metonym for cinema, this idea that the flat surface carries a terrific depth of imaginative field while remaining totally flat.