Best 99 quotes in «pantheism quotes» category

The river of my village doesn’t make you think about anything. When you’re at its bank you’re only at its bank.

The Tejo runs down from Spain And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal. Everybody knows that. But not many people know the river of my village And where it comes from And where it’s going. And so, because it belongs to less people, The river of my village is freer and greater.

Things don’t have significance: they only have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things.

This one god could be of the deistic or pantheistic sort. Deism might be superior in explaining why God has seemingly left us to our own devices and pantheism could be the more logical option as it fits well with the ontological argument's 'maximally-great entity' and doesn't rely on unproven concepts about 'nothing' (as in 'creation out of nothing'). A mixture of the two, pandeism, could be the most likely God-concept of all.

This knowledge of oneness does not belong to individualism. The world gives the proof, when they say, ‘We have seen you within me’. After this knowledge he becomes a wise man. It means that I come to know that I am this human race – ‘All is one and one is all’ (Pantheism)

Though as Jack Parsons says, witchcraft is the oldest religion, that it lifts us out of ourselves and switches our bristling skin, the fact is, that witchcraft arises from the world. It comes from the land, the people, the plants, the animals, the whole web of life. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Witchcraft is here in the present time.

Up is infinite. Down is infinite. Pantheism, dualism, pluralism!

To love is to think. And I almost forget to feel only from thinking about her. I don’t know what I want at all, even from her, and I don’t think about anything but her. I have a great animated distraction. When I want to meet her, I almost feel like not meeting her, So I don’t have to leave her afterwards. And I prefer thinking about her, because it’s like I’m afraid of her. I don’t know what I want at all, and I don’t want to know what I want. All I want to do is think about her. I’m asking nothing of nobody, not even her, except to think.

Water’s water and that’s why it’s beautiful.

What does this think about that? Nothing thinks about anything. Does the earth have consciousness of its stones and plants? If it did, it would be people. . . Why am I worrying about this? If I think about these things, I’ll stop seeing trees and plants And stop seeing the Earth For only seeing my thoughts... I’ll get unhappy and stay in the dark. And so, without thinking, I have the Earth and the Sky.

[W]hen I leave the Church and the city behind and go out under the sky, when I am with the birds, [...] with the clouds, [...] and with the oceans, [...] I cannot feel Christianity because I am in a world which grows from within. I am simply incapable of feeling its life as coming from above[.] More exactly, I cannot feel that its life comes from Another, from one who is qualitatively and spiritually external to all that lives and grows. On the contrary, I feel this whole world to be moved from the inside, and from an inside so deep that it is my inside as well, more truly I than my surface consciousness.

Whether we (humans) are living in a simulation or multiverse or in god made universe, some things are true everywhere. Freedom, unconditional love, goodness, consciousness , existence itself is real among those things.

While our culture laments, what have we done wrong? Has no concept of sin, but only consumption. It still knows that something has gone dreadfully awry. Infantilized it helplessly repeats, what, what have we done wrong? It is simple: Mankind has broken the covenant with nature.

Within biblical theology it remains the case that the one living God created a world that is other than himself, not contained within himself. Creation was from the beginning an act of love, of affirming goodness of the other. God saw all that he had made, and it was very good; but it was not itself divine. At its height, which according to Genesis 1 is the creation of humans, it was designed to REFLECT God, both to reflect God back to God in worship and to reflect God into the rest of creation in stewardship. But this image-bearing capacity of humankind is not in itself the same thing as divinity. Collapsing this distinction means taking a large step toward a pantheism within which there is no way of understanding, let alone addressing, the problem of evil.

Yes: I exist inside my body. I’m not carrying the sun and the moon in my pocket. I don’t want to conquer worlds because I slept badly, And I don’t want to eat the world for breakfast because I have a stomach. Indifferent? No: a son of the earth, who, if he jumps, it’s wrong, A moment in the air that’s not for us, And only happy when his feet hit the ground again, Pow! In reality where nothing’s missing! (6/20/1919)

Yes, this is what my senses alone have learned:— Things don’t have significance: they only have existence. Things are the only hidden meaning of things.

We make our journey in the company of others; the deer, the rabbit, the bison, and the quail walk before us, and the lion, the eagle, the wolf, the vulture, and the hyena walk behind us. All our paths lie together in the hand of god and none is wider than any other or favored above any other. The worm that creeps beneath your foot is making its journey across the hand of god as surely as you are.

.... we are a part of nature as a whole, whose order we follow.

Malebranche teaches that we see all things in God himself. This is certainly equivalent to explaining something unknown by something even more unknown. Moreover, according to him, we see not only all things in God, but God is also the sole activity therein, so that physical causes are so only apparently; they are merely occasional causes. ( Recherches de la vérité , Livre VI, seconde partie, chap. 3.) And so here we have essentially the pantheism of Spinoza who appears to have learned more from Malebranche than from Descartes.

All of nature is in me, and a bit of myself is in all of nature.

A kid thinking about fairy tales and believing in fairy tales Acts like a sick god, but like a god. Because even though he affirms that what doesn’t exist exists, He knows things exist, that he exists, He knows existing exists and doesn’t explain itself, And he knows there’s no reason at all for anything to exist. He knows being is the point. All he doesn’t know is that thought isn’t the point. (10/1/1917)

All beings exist and nothing else And that’s why they’re called beings

All the evil in the world comes from us bothering with each other, Wanting to do good, wanting to do evil. Our soul and the sky and the earth are enough for us. To want more is to lose this, and be unhappy.

Also at times, on the surface of streams, Water?bubbles form And grow and burst And have no meaning at all Except that they’re water?bubbles Growing and bursting.

And since today’s all there is for now, that’s everything. Who knows if I’ll be dead the day after tomorrow? If I’m dead the day after tomorrow, the thunderstorm day after tomorrow Will be another thunderstorm than if I hadn’t died. Of course I know thunderstorms don’t fall because I see them, But if I weren’t in the world, The world would be different — There would be me the less — And the thunderstorm would fall on a different world and would be another thunderstorm. No matter what happens, what’s falling is what’ll be falling when it falls. (7/10/1930)

And I find a happiness in the fact of accepting — In the sublimely scientific and difficult fact of accepting the inevitable natural.

And he feels hurt when he hears about wars, And commerce, and the ships leaving Their smoke on the high seas. Because he knows all of this lacks the truth A flower has in its blooming And which moves with the sunlight Changing the hills and valleys

And the forest perfume — trees and earth — it's like incense in a shrine. You fall into a state of... prayer.

A stagecoach passed by on the road and went on; And the road didn’t become more beautiful or even more ugly. That’s human action on the outside world. We take nothing away and we put nothing back, we pass by and we forget; And the sun is always punctual every day. (5/7/14)

An overemphasis on God as One can easily morph into God as the only One, which then ineluctably incorporates everything into the only One, with nothing outside of it. We are left with either monism or pantheism.

A row of trees far away, there on the hillside. But what is it, a row of trees? It’s just trees. Row and the plural trees aren’t things, they’re names.

Between what i see in a field and what I see in another field There passes for a moment the figure of a man. His steps go with “him” in the same reality, But I look at him and them, and they’re two things: The “man” goes walking with his ideas, false and foreign, And his steps go with the ancient system that makes legs walk. I see him from a distance without any opinion at all. How perfect that he is in him what he is — his body, His true reality which doesn’t have desires or hopes, But muscles and the sure and impersonal way of using them.

Consistent with the liberal views of the Enlightenment, Leibniz was an optimist with respect to human reasoning and scientific progress. Although he was a great reader and admirer of Spinoza, Leibniz, being a confirmed deist, rejected emphatically Spinoza's pantheism.

But if God is the trees and the flowers And the hills and the moonlight and the sun, Why should I call him God? I call him flowers and trees and hills and sun and moonlight; Because if he made himself for me to see As the sun and moonlight and flowers and trees and hills, If he appears to me as trees and hills And moonlight and sun and flowers, It’s because he wants me to know him As trees and hills and flowers and moonlight and sun. And that’s why I obey him, (What more do I know about God than God knows about himself?), I obey him by living, spontaneously, Like someone opening his eyes and seeing, And I call him moonlight and sun and flowers and trees and hills, And I love him without thinking about him, And I think him by seeing and hearing, And I walk with him all the time.

Even so, I’m somebody. I’m the Discoverer of Nature. I’m the Argonaut of true sensations. I bring a new Universe to the Universe Because I bring the Universe to itself.

Everything’s different from us. That’s why everything exists.

Everything in Nature called destruction must be creation-a change from beauty to beauty.

For, I think, when I woke up today, with a dream of yesterday still in my eyes,I felt tired in life. And thinking of the little blond girl of Mays & Junes long gone by,I felt strange looking on a field of wheat, and I thought, in a moment I was God and so was she, and this field was us too. So long gone, she goes. But I am still her, whether she comes and goes like all of life, or she stays awhile. Once, a man of physics told me, matter cannot be created or destroyed. And on another occasion he said everything came from one point, in the beginning. So we are all flowers and rivers and trees. That was all of us together. Every one of the past, present, and future.

For meg hører skogen og ensomheten til.

He’s taught me everything. He taught me how to look at things. He shows me everything there is in flowers. He shows me how stones are pleasing When you hold them in your hand And look at them for a while.

God did not create the world, He became the world. God became the world to realize himself, in material form, to realize an eternal and infinite aim. It is for the purpose of realizing His eternal and infinite aim that He became the world. Now notice this. God had to conceive the one primordial idea to become the world. Thus the idea preceded the world. This is supposed to be the relation between cause and effect. The cause is assumed to be prior to and independent of the the effect; while the effect is assumed to be posterior to and dependent upon the cause.

He should be happy because he can think about the unhappiness of others! He’s stupid if he doesn’t know other people’s unhappiness is theirs, And isn’t cured from the outside, Because suffering isn’t like running out of ink, Or a trunk not having iron bands! There being injustice is like there being death.

I don’t bother with rhyme. Rarely Are two trees the same, one beside the other. I think and write like flowers have color But with less perfection in my way of expressing myself Because I lack the divine simplicity Of wholly being only my exterior. I see and I’m moved, Moved the way water runs when the ground is sloping And what I write is as natural as the rising wind...

I don’t always feel what I know I should feel. My thought crosses the river I swim very slowly Because the suit men made it wear weighs it down.

I feel cut off only because I am split within myself, because I try to be divided from my own feelings and sensations. What I feel and sense therefore seems foreign to me. And on being aware of the unreality of this division, the universe does not seem foreign any more. For I am what I know; what I know is I. The sensation of a house across the street or of a star in outer space is no less I than an itch on the sole of my foot or an idea in my brain.

I don’t know what understanding myself is. I don’t look inside. I don’t believe I exist behind myself.

I don’t regret anything I was before because I still am. I only regret not having loved you. Put your hands in mine And let’s be quiet, surrounded by life.

I feel the need to fall in love with the world, to forge that relationship ever more strongly. But maybe I don’t have to work so hard. I have thought nature indifferent to humans, to one more human, but maybe the reverse is true. Maybe the world is already in love, giving us these gifts all the time—the glimpse of a fox, tracks in the sand, a breeze, a flower--calling out all the time: take this. And this. And this. Don’t turn away.

I don’t know how to talk because I’m feeling. I’m listening to my voice as if it were someone else’s, And my voice is speaking about her as if she were speaking. She has hair as blond as yellow wheat in the sun, And when she speaks her mouth says things that aren’t words. She laughs, and her teeth are as clean as stones in a river.

If I die very young, hear this: I was never anything but a kid playing. I was a heathen like the sun and the water, I had the universal religion only people don’t have. I was happy because I didn’t ask for anything at all, Or tried to find anything, And I didn’t find any more explanation Than the word explanation having no meaning at all.