“The wine-cup is the little silver well, Where truth, if truth there be, doth dwell.”

Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

It’s too bad if a heart lacks fire, and is deprived of the light of a heart ablaze. The day on which you are without passionate love is the most wasted day of your life.

In monasteries, seminaries, retreats and synagogues, they fear hell and seek paradise. Those who know the mysteries of God never let that seed be planted in their souls.

The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.

Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.

Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai Whose portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destin’d Hour and went his way.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.

The entire world shall be populous with that action which saves one soul from despair.

To-day is thine to spend, but not to-morrow; Counting on morrows breedeth bankrupt sorrow: O squander not this breath that Heaven hath lent thee; Make not too sure another breath to borrow.

Here’s to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.

You’ve seen the world, and all you’ve seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You’ve sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you’ve treasured up at home are nothing.

When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!

But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.

To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.

Expelled from the truth of Being, man everywhere circles around himself as the animal rationale.

Have patience awhile; slanders are not long-lived. Truth is the child of time; erelong she shall appear to vindicate thee.

But what a weak barrier is truth when it stands in the way of an hypothesis!

Immersing ourselves in art and the immeasurable through being allows us a more truthful experience of the world.

No human being will ever know the truth, for even if they happened to say it by chance, they would not know they had done so.

Everything has always already been said. And yet this “same” possesses, as its inner truth, the inexhaustable wealth of what is on every day as if that day were its first.

Technology is a mode of revealing. Technology comes to presence in the realm where revealing and unconcealment take place, where aletheia, truth, happens.

Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with absolute truth.