Best 12844 quotes in «self quotes» category

My anger feels hot and bilious but I keep it bottled until it doubles back and I'm mad at myself.

My conscious self lived within the familiar and sanctioned world, it denied the new world that dawned within me.

My dear friends, from the devil's standpoint there is not the slightest difference between being puffed up with pride in yourself or spending the whole of your time condemning yourself. Either way the devil is very well-pleased. Any concentration upon self in any shape or form is of the devil.

My 'Inner World' can only tap the GOODNESS in the World outside ! From within I see 'beauty', from within I see 'ugliness', from within I see 'divinity', from within I 'enjoy',from within I feel 'sadness' ! It all starts from ME, goes all around and comes back to ME!!

My mediocrity is no secret; My battles with it are

My-ness (mamta) is indeed parigrah [attachment to material objects]; material object is not a parigrah. Gnani doesn’t have My-ness (mamata), He has the eternal element (experience of Pure Soul).

My past self would've hated who I am today And I still feel that hatred in the parts of him that stayed

My principal purpose here is to point out again, yet more insistently, that one cannot meaningfully consider, much less investigate, the reality of God except in a manner appropriate to the kind of reality God has traditionally been understood to be. Contemplative discipline, while not by any means the only proper approach to the mystery of God, is peculiarly suited to (for want of a better word) an 'empirical' exploration of that mystery. If God is the unity of infinite being and infinite consciousness, and the reason for the reciprocal transparency of finite being and finite consciousness each to the other, and the ground of all existence and all knowledge, then the journey toward him must also ultimately be a journey toward the deepest source of the self. As Symeon the New Theologian was fond of observing, he who is beyond the heavens is found in the depths of the heart; there is nowhere to find him, William Law (1686–1761) was wont to say, but where he resides in you; for Ramakrishna (1836–1886), it was a constant refrain that one seeks for God only in seeking what is hidden in one’s heart; (...) The practice of contemplative prayer, therefore, is among the highest expressions of rationality possible, a science of consciousness and of its relation to the being of all things, (...)

My secret to happiness? Keep sadness to yourself

My thoughts come and go I am not my thoughts I am not attached to my thoughts I am free of my thoughts

My thoughts create my reality I choose positive thoughts to create my reality I am creating the reality I want

My world foreshortened, flattening into a credit card. Seen head on, things seemed merely skewed, but from the side the view was virtually meaningless--a one-dimensional wafer. Everything about me may have been crammed in there, but it was only plastic. Indecipherable except to some machine.

My younger self had come back to shock my older self with what that self had been, or was, or was sometimes capable of being. And only recently I’d been going on about how the witnesses to our lives decrease, and with them our essential corroboration. Now I had some all too unwelcome corroboration of what I was, or had been.

Nature has gone to great lengths to hide our subconscious from ourselves. Why?

Never focus your attention on what the world has to say about you. Rather turn your focus inside and listen to what your inner voice has to say to you.

Never doubt your existence.

Never give up on your existence. Never give up on your dreams. Never give up on your love.

Never forget who you are, always remember where you came from.

Never focus your attention on what the world has to say about you. Rather turn your focus inside and listen to what your inner voice has to say to you. You can find the answers to the most complicated questions of life from your deepest self. Pay attention and listen. Your inner self has to say something to you. Listen to that eternal entity within, and you shall discover the way through which you’ll reach your goal.

Never give up on yourself.

Nischay is One’s own real form as the Self, whereas vyavahaar (the relative) is one’s own fault.

No label can define the immensity of your True nature. You are the awareness that precedes every label, the awareness that is perceiving these words and turning them into thoughts, the awareness that creates the world with every act of observation.

Nischay (the firm resolve to remain as the Self) is within One's [the Self] control (Swadhin), vyavahaar (the relative; worldly interactions) is out of One's control (paradhin; subject to scientific circumstantial evidences) whereas the resultant effect [of vyavahaar] is even further out of One's control. We [the Self] only have to make the firm resolve to remain as the Self and not worry about vyavahaar. Vyavahaar is subject to external factors such as scientific circumstantial evidences.

Nobody knows everything, yet most people hate being exposed to the idea that they don't have all the answers.

No effort is needed for each and every thing to revert back to its inherent natural state. Effort is required to take it into any other nature [vishesh bhaav]. How much effort is needed to heat water. And what if you have to cool it down? You don’t have to do anything because that (coolness) is indeed its attribute. Similarly the Soul (the Real Self) is moksha-swaroop, by its own inherent nature (liberation is the nature of the Self). Therefore, the Gnani Purush [the enlightened one] through His grace paves the way for you. Moksha is attained by following the Gnani’s Agnas [commandments of the enlightened one], you don’t have to exert any effort for it. Effort gives rise to the worldly life. All these ‘fruits’ you are reaping now are due to all the penance and rosaries you had done.

No knowledge about self is self-slavery!

No matter the situation don't let your emotions overpower your intelligence.

No matter what happens, I will always love myself.

Non nobis solum nati sumus. (Not for ourselves alone are we born.)

No one can conquer you once you have conquered yourself.

No one can destroy the love God has for you. When you abide in truth, you also abide in love. And truth is evidence of love. Nothing can destroy the power of trusting and loving unconditionally.

No one has ever done this before. No one has ever been you before. This exact interrelated web of people and events and places and memories and desire and love that is your life hasn't ever existed in the history of the Universe. Welcome to a truly unique phenomenon. Welcome to your life. I want you to be here. Welcome to here.

No personality (prakruti) is a waste, but you have to discover what it is useful for. You do not have to keep saying, ‘You do not know how to make this sweet. You do not know how to do this and how to do that.’ But, instead discover what he knows.

No Soul is identical – yet all Souls are unified.

No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. ... Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? ... And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.

NOTE TO SELF – BOOMERANG EFFECT My words, thoughts and deeds have a boomerang effect. So be-careful what you send out!

Note and Quote to Self – What you think, say and do! Your life mainly consists of 3 things! What you think, What you say and What you do! So always be very conscious of what you are co-creating!

Nothing can be attained until all supports other than those of the pure Soul have been eliminated.

Nothing in this world can touch or affect the one who remains in the focused pure applied awareness of the Self, the Soul (shuddha upayogi).

Nothing is the whole story. The self’s curse – and the writer’s.

Nothing worldly will ever become the Self (the Soul). The Self [the Soul] will never become worldly. Both are separate things.

Not only are selves conditional but they die. Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?

Not too long ago thousands spent their lives as recluses to find spiritual vision in the solitude of nature. Modern man need not become a hermit to achieve this goal, for it is neither ecstasy nor world-estranged mysticism his era demands, but a balance between quantitative and qualitative reality. Modern man, with his reduced capacity for intuitive perception, is unlikely to benefit from the contemplative life of a hermit in the wilderness. But what he can do is to give undivided attention, at times, to a natural phenomenon, observing it in detail, and recalling all the scientific facts about it he may remember. Gradually, however, he must silence his thoughts and, for moments at least, forget all his personal cares and desires, until nothing remains in his soul but awe for the miracle before him. Such efforts are like journeys beyond the boundaries of narrow self-love and, although the process of intuitive awakening is laborious and slow, its rewards are noticeable from the very first. If pursued through the course of years, something will begin to stir in the human soul, a sense of kinship with the forces of life consciousness which rule the world of plants and animals, and with the powers which determine the laws of matter. While analytical intellect may well be called the most precious fruit of the Modern Age, it must not be allowed to rule supreme in matters of cognition. If science is to bring happiness and real progress to the world, it needs the warmth of man's heart just as much as the cold inquisitiveness of his brain.

Now, what if Others were encapsulated in Things, in a way that Being towards Things were not ontologically severable, in Heidegger's terms, from Being towards Others? What if the mode of Dasein of Others were to dwell in Things, and so forth? In the same light, then, what if the Thing were a Dublette of the Self, and not what is called the Other? Or more radically still, what if the Self were in some fundamental way becoming a Xerox copy, a duplicate, of the Thing in its assumed essence?

Observe things as they are and don't pay attention to other people. There are some people just like mad dogs barking at everything that moves, even barking when the wind stirs among the grass and leaves.

Oh, child, my child, if only you realized who you truly are.

Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die My skin is in blazing furore I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse In to the sun-coloured bladder I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me I'll destroy and shatter everything draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger Shubha will have to be given Oh Malay Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self My power of recollection is withering away Let me ascend alone toward death I haven't had to learn copulation and dying I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops after urination Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness Have not had to learn the usage of French leather while lying on Nandita's bosom Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's fresh China-rose matrix Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm I am failing to understand why I still want to live I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors I'll have to do something different and new Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of Shubha's bosom I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born I want to see my own death before passing away The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your violent silvery uterus Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm Would I have been like this if I had different parents? Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm? Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father? Would I have made a professional gentleman of me like my dead brother without Shubha? Oh, answer, let somebody answer these Shubha, ah Shubha Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen Come back on the green mattress again As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956 The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished with coon at that time Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I do not know whether I am going to die Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience I'll disrupt and destroy I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide Shubha Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora In to the absurdity of woeless effort In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart Why wasn't I lost in my mother's urethra? Why wasn't I driven away in my father's urine after his self-coition? Why wasn't I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm? With her eyes shut supine beneath me I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize S

O Lord, thy will be done in my life as it is written in Heaven in Jesus Name. Amen.

omnis mundi creatura / quasi liber et pictura / nobis est in speculum (all the creatures of the world / as a book and a picture / are to us a mirror)

Once dehadhyas (the belief that 'I am the body') is gone, the naturalness of the body increases a fraction at a time. And to whatever extent it becomes natural, that much samadhi (freedom from the effects of mental, physical, and externally-induced problems) will arise!