Best 193 quotes in «rebirth quotes» category

Suppose a man threw into the sea a yoke with one hole in it, and the east wind carried it to the west, and the west wind carried it to the east, and the north wind carried it to the south, and the south wind carried it to the north. Suppose there were a blind turtle that came up once at the end of each century. What do you think, bhikkhus? Would that blind turtle put his neck into that yoke with one hole in it?" "He might, venerable sir, sometime or other at the end of a long period." "Bhikkhus, the blind turtle would sooner put his neck into that yoke with a single hole in it than a fool, once gone to perdition, would take to regain the human state, I say. Why is that? Because there is no practising of the Dhamma there, no practising of what is righteous, no doing of what is wholesome, no performance of merit. There mutual devouring prevails, and the slaughter of the weak.

That’s what winter is: an exercise in remembering how to still yourself then how to come pliantly back to life again.

The amorous shepherd has lost his staff, And his sheep are straying on the hillside, And he didn’t even play the flute he brought to play because he was thinking so much. No one came to him or went away. He never found his staff again. Others, cursing at him, gathered his sheep for him. No one had loved him, in the end. When he got up from the hillside and the false truth, he saw everything: The great valleys full of the same green as always, The great distant mountains, more real than any feeling, All reality, with the sky and the air and the fields that exist, is present. (And once again the air, that he’d missed for so long, entered coolly into his lungs) And he felt that the air was opening again, but with pain, a liberty in his chest. (7/10/1930)

The desire for liberation arises in human beings at the end of many births, through the ripening of their past virtuous conduct.

The more I see the sea the more I want to give myself away to its lovely current. But then I realize. I am the current. I am the sea. It is that what is me.

The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness. There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine.

The night kisses the fading day whispering to his ear, “I am death, your mother. I am to give you fresh birth.

The present moment is all that ever is, and in each new moment we die and are reborn. For example, people block love and close off their hearts out of fear of being hurt again. If they lived in the present moment, there would be no fear and they would walk forward in life with confidence and certainty that there is the joy of new experiences to be had.

The reason as to why a human cannot give birth to himself is because he needs someone to help him. We are altricial, or helpless at birth, because we have to depend on others so that later in life when we are capable, we help those in need. And this is very much part of the circle of life.

There’s a space between the beginning and the end, In that place we suffer, and we see our loved ones suffer because us. There’s a space between our birth and death, a space where people laugh and shed their tears, a place of broken hearts, and celebrations, a place where People pray and God ignores their pain, In life we love and then we cheat; We lust and then repent, In life we die, and die again, And then we hope our new rebirth.

There was a charm in being reborn into the world when one was old enough to appreciate it.

The snow here hadn't thawed. Its large, rough crystals were filled with the blue of the lake-water. But on the sunny side of the hill the snow was just beginning to melt. The ditch beside the path was full of gurgling water. The glitter of the snow, the water and the ice on the puddles was quite blinding. There was so much light, it was so intense, that they seemed almost to have to force their way through it. It disturbed them and got in their way; when they stepped on the thin film of ice over the puddles, it seemed to be light that was crunching under their feet, breaking up into thin, splinter-like rays. And it was light that was flowing down the ditch beside the path; where the path was blocked by stones, the light swelled up, foaming and gurgling. The spring sun seemed to be closer to the earth than ever. The air was cool and warm at the same time.

The sooner the rebirth, the prettier the corpse.

They have not forgotten the Mysteries,” she said, “they have found them too difficult. They want a God who will care for them, who will not demand that they struggle for enlightenment, but who will accept them just as they are, with all their sins, and take away their sins with repentance. It is not so, it will never be so, but perhaps it is the only way the unenlightened can bear to think of their Gods.” Lancelet smiled bitterly. “Perhaps a religion which demands that every man must work through lifetime after lifetime for his own salvation is too much for mankind. They want not to wait for God’s justice, but to see it now. And that is the lure which this new breed of priests has promised them.

They have to know, for we know , that reincarnation is real.

The young have little use for the concept of rebirth, yet the older they get the more appealing the concept becomes.

This is the secret of the golden flower: if the heart can die the flower will bloom, die as you are so you can be reborn.

Those who eat what is rightfully theirs, will incarnate as humans. Those who take what is not theirs by right, will incarnate as animals. Those who give away to others, what is rightfully their own, will incarnate as celestial beings. Those who hurt others and take away from them what is not theirs by right; will take birth in hell.

Také letos stromy, které zůstaly naživu, opět rozkvetou a obalí se listím, přemítal. Na větvích bude viset zase o pár plodů méně než vloni a ty pak spadnou a shnijí. Tak budou stromy odcházet jeden za druhým. A na jejich místě vyraší nová tráva a nové stromy.

Tears ache in my throat and each time his lips caress mine I’m closer to the dam within me bursting open. He’s undoing me, tearing out my demons with burning strokes of his lips and the salty taste of his mouth. In his arms, I’m changing, becoming anew.

Tell a wise person, or else keep silent, because the mass man will mock it right away. I praise what is truly alive, what longs to be burned to death. In the calm water of the love-nights, where you were begotten, where you have begotten, a strange feeling comes over you, when you see the silent candle burning. Now you are no longer caught in the obsession with darkness, and a desire for higher love-making sweeps you upward. Distance does not make you falter. Now, arriving in magic, flying, and finally, insane for the light, you are the butterfly and you are gone. And so long as you haven't experienced this: to die and so to grow, you are only a troubled guest on the dark earth.

Thank God forgiven me of my many sins.

The fate of your next birth is written by the karma of this birth

To a true collector, the acquisition of an old book is its rebirth,” Oscar quoted, absent self-consciousness.

Thus ended the first and adventurous part of his existence. What followed was so different that, but for the reality of sorrow which remained with him, this strange part must have resembled a dream.

To return to God in repentance leads to rebirth.

To rebel is to be reborn.

To the wonders of all things, we fall and then we are reborn

Transformation is not a kind place, it’s chaotic and a source of inner conflict because it is not a ‘safe’ place, but it is a place of growth; a place of rebirth where you can restart and realign with who you are. We can learn so much from the caterpillar that grows its butterfly wings in the ache and darkness of its own cocoon; and is reborn, beautiful and free, with wings to fly. This is the true meaning and profoundness of transformation; it is where the truest parts of you can emerge and you transition into the most intuitive and vibrant canvas of yourself.

True change is the rebirth of the way we learn. When we do not say words "I know everything” unconsciously or consciously. It is a greater duty to take small things seriously.

Trust opens the door that pain had sealed shut.

Today my mother may be human. But when I die I may be reborn as a dog and then my mother may be a bitch. So, therefore, you have to think that all living things are my parents. My parents are infinite. Let my parents not suffer.

Until we understand what the land is, we are at odds with everything we touch. And to come to that understanding it is necessary, even now, to leave the regions of our conquest - the cleared fields, the towns and cities, the highways - and re-enter the woods. For only there can a man encounter the silence and the darkness of his own absence. Only in this silence and darkness can he recover the sense of the world's longevity, of its ability to thrive without him, of his inferiority to it and his dependence on it. Perhaps then, having heard that silence and seen that darkness, he will grow humble before the place and begin to take it in - to learn from it what it is. As its sounds come into his hearing, and its lights and colors come into his vision, and its odors come into his nostrils, then he may come into its presence as he never has before, and he will arrive in his place and will want to remain. His life will grow out of the ground like the other lives of the place, and take its place among them. He will be with them - neither ignorant of them, nor indifferent to them, nor against them - and so at last he will grow to be native-born. That is, he must reenter the silence and the darkness, and be born again. (pg. 27, "A Native Hill")

We all have that divine moment, when our lives are transformed by the knowledge of the truth.

What do people see in me on the first impression? ... Is there any imprint left from the love I knew? A rebirth mark?

What's wonderful about life is you always have to start over. No many how many meals you've eaten, words you've spoken, breaths, you've taken, you always have to start over.

Who me? I play scales. The scales of dead fish of oil-slicked seas. My sister blows wind through the hollows of fallen trees. And we are the echoes of eternity. Maybe you’ve heard of us. We do rebirths, revolts, and resurrections.

With each new day comes an opportunity for rebirth, for change. Don't wait for another New Year.

Forgetfulness of your real nature is true death; remembrance of it is rebirth.

The glow flares bright—bright as the billion-year-old light around us. Bright as a sun. Almost every particle in the universe was once part of a star. First, hydrogen condensing and collapsing, bringing radiance to the void. Furnaces burning bright, then fading, giving all they had left back into the cosmos. Carbon and oxygen. Iron and gold. Vast clouds swirling with their own gravity. Coalescing and disintegrating. Generation to generation. The remnants of stellar alchemy, stirring into life, then consciousness. Crawling from the oceans. Taking to the skies. And from there, back to the stars that birthed them. A perfect circle.

Tutankhamun Speaks: Inside my mask of gold, lapis, turquoise and amber, my naked body breaks its bondage and soars like an eagle towards the golden Sun of rejuvenation

We are born twice. When we leave our mother's womb and when we leave our father's house.

We don’t wait for the future to come to us. We give birth to the future.

We search for happiness across every landscape, if only we knew that the seed in which it first grows, is planted within ourselves...

What a face this girl possessed!—Could I neither die then nor gaze at her face every day, I would need to recreate it through painting or sculpture, or through fatherhood, until a second such face could be born.

What did you do for them, Bone? Teach them to read and write? Help them rebuild, give the, Christ, help restore a culture? Did you remember to warn the, that it could never be Eden?

What did you do for them, Bone? Teach them to read and write? Help them rebuild, give them Christ, help restore a culture? Did you remember to warn them that it could never be Eden?

What is the duty of a man? To see God and then to be transformed into God, - ‘Swena rupena abhinispadyate’ (To become transformed into Him or God ). Then what remains after that? Nothing. Whatever happens you will get within this life. You have got such rare human life, so you have to utilize it. Don’t listen to them that there are 82 millions rebirth – it is nothing but a hoax.

What makes a person "the same" person across life's tectonic upheavals of circumstance and character? Amid the chaos and decay toward which the universe inclines, we grasp for stability and permanence by trying to carve out a solid sense of self in our blink of existence. But there is no solidity. Every quark of every atom of every cell in your body had been replaced since the time of your first conscious memory, your first word, your first kiss. In the act of living, you come to dream different dreams, value different values, love different loves. In a sense, you are reborn with each new experience.

When it happens and it hits hard, we decide certain things, and realize there's truth in all those dark, lonely days" He had an instantaneous look about him, a glimmer and a glint over those eyes, he knew how the world worked, and took pleasure in its wickedness. He would give a dime or two to those sitting on the street, he would tell them things like: "It won't get any better," and "Might as well use this to buy your next fix," and finally "It's better to die high than to live sober," His suit was pressed nicely, with care and respect, like the kind a corpse wears, he'd say that was his way of honoring the dead, of always being ready for the oncoming train, I liked him, he never wore a fake smile and he was always ready to tell a story about how and when "We all wake up alone," he said once, "Oftentimes even when sleeping next to someone, we wake up before them and they are still asleep and suddenly we are awake, and alone." I didn't see him for a few days, a few days later it felt like it'd been weeks, those weeks drifted apart from one another, like leaves on a pond's surface, and became like months. And then I saw him and I asked him where he'd been, he said, "I woke up alone one day, just like any other, and I decided I didn't like it anymore.