Echoes

There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the present moment. A man's whole life is a succession of moment after moment. If one fully understands the present moment, there will be nothing else to do, and nothing else to pursue. Live being true to the single purpose of the moment. Everyone lets the present moment slip by, then looks for it as though he thought it were somewhere else.

In my walks I would fain return to my senses. What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?

Do not, my soul, seek immortal life, but exhaust the limits of the possible.

The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.

Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.

Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality.

...why did we wait for any thing? — why not seize the pleasure at once? — How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!

The present moment contains past and future. The secret of transformation, is in the way we handle this very moment.

Remember that man lives only in the present, in this fleeting instant; all the rest of his life is either past and gone, or not yet revealed. Short, therefore, is man's life, and narrow is the corner of the earth wherein he dwells.

Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.

The purpose of life...is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.

When you arise in the morning think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love.

I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Come forth into the light of things, let Nature be your teacher.

Not to live as if you had endless years ahead of you. Death overshadows you. While you're alive and able—be good.

I have arrived. I am home. In the here, in the now. I am solid. I am free. In the ultimate I dwell.

Thou oughtest in every deed and thought so to order thyself, as if thou wert to die this day.

Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy.

Even as we speak, envious time is running away from us. Seize the day, trusting as little as possible in tomorrow.

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.

Wherever your life ends, it is all there. The utility of living consists not in the length of days, but in the use of time; a man may have lived long, and yet lived but a little. Make use of time while it is present with you. It depends upon your will, and not upon the number of days, to have a sufficient length of life. Is it possible you can imagine never to arrive at the place towards which you are continually going? and yet there is no journey but hath its end. And, if company will make it more pleasant or more easy to you, does not all the world go the self-same way?

Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee. While thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good.

The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.