Rumi·1260Listen to the reed, how it tells a tale, complaining of separations — saying, "Ever since I was parted from the reed-bed, my lament hath caused man and woman to moan. I want a bosom torn by severance, that I may unfold to such a one the pain of love-desire."
Rabindranath Tagore·1910This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
Arthur Schopenhauer·1839Man can do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills.
Custom is our nature. What are our natural principles but principles of custom? I am much afraid that nature is itself only a first custom, as custom is a second nature.
The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.
The only thing that consoles us for our miseries is diversion. And yet it is the greatest of our miseries. For it is that above all which prevents us thinking about ourselves and leads us imperceptibly to destruction.
