Perseverance in object, though not by the most direct way, is often more laudable than perpetual changes, as often as the object shifts light.
Playing with various approaches may be due to resistance to going within, to the fear of having to abandon the illusion of being something or somebody in particular. Of all the affections the love of oneself comes first. Light and love are impersonal. When you do not think yourself to be this or that, all conflict ceases. Any attempt to do something about your problems is bound to fail, for what is caused by desire can be undone only in freedom from desire. You cannot be rid of problems without abandoning illusions.
It is difficult batting in artificial light with a red ball but it's a horrible task for umpires to make a judgement, particularly if they're going by light meters.
Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.
In civilized societies, we spend our lifetimes trying to become what is socially acceptable. We're dark and we're light. We all have both sides to us.
If a person forges ahead in the light and yet has lost his care for the others, the purpose of the light is wasted. God does not give us light for its own sake, but for the purpose of doing something in the light.
Competition can be viewed in two ways. It can be viewed in a negative light and be seen as destructive, but one can also have the view that it is competition that drives people and institutions to higher and higher levels of excellence and, therefore, to more and more opportunity.
The most enlightened people in the world embrace their full potential of light and dark. When you're with people who recognize and own their negative qualities, you never feel judged by them. It's only when people see good and bad, right and wrong, as qualities outside themselves that judgments occur.
Ever since our first fathers by infection took this morbum sathanicum, this devilish disease, pride, of the devil, such tinder is our nature, that every little spark sets us on fire; our nature hath grown so light, that every little thing puffeth us up, and sets us aloft in our altitudes presently.
He who look at a woman who is not his wife as a mother; wealth that is not his as dust and all the men as himself. . . is a happy man. He, who sees all these things under a different light, is a blind.
The extent of his influence across jazz, across American music, and around the world has such continuing stature that he is one of the few who can easily be mentioned with Stravinsky, Picasso and Joyce. His life was the embodiment of one who moves from rags to riches, from anonymity to internationally imitated innovator. Louis Daniel Armstrong supplied revolutionary language that took on such pervasiveness that it became commonplace, like the light bulb, the airplane, the telephone.
The past is a cupboard full of light and all you have to do is find the key that opens the door.
A lovely lady, garmented in light From her own beauty.
What makes a hero? Courage, strength, morality, withstanding adversity? Are these the traits that truly show and create a hero? Is the light truly the source of darkness or vice versa? Is the soul a source of hope or despair? Who are these so called heroes and where do they come from? Are their origins in obscurity or in plain sight?
Within three hours of a disaster event there should be a recon damage assessment of the infrastructure and an educated guess as to the casualties and degree of imminent human peril. Then make the airdrops of supplies and personnel. Simultaneously, Seabees would be dropped in, with lights and generators, to begin rescue efforts.
I look back at the past as fond memories but I'm able to move forwards in a new light, like I'm reborn.
In a way, the whole music industry is just catering to the inherent esteem issues all these artists have - it lays it all out on the line and baits the artist, like a light baits a mosquito. And you go right into it. With every comment on the internet, you go up, you go down, and it's a big shitshow full of uneducated people.
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot.
Every few seconds a new book sees the light of day. Most of them will just be a part of the hum that makes us hard of hearing. Even the book is becoming an instrument of forgetting. A truly literary work comes into being as its creator's cry of protest against the forgetting that looms over him, over his predecessors and his contemporaries alike, and over his time, and the language he speaks. A literary work is something that defies death.
The sun was slowly setting in the west, casting golden beams of light into the somber old room.