I do not much believe in education. Each man ought to be his own model, however frightful that may be.
Education consists mainly in what we have unlearned.
To know how to suggest is the great art of teaching.
We must learn to get on in the world — not in the commercial and materialistic sense — but as a means of getting Heavenward. Any education which neglects this fact, and to the extent to which it neglects it, is false education, because it is false to man.
I respect faith but doubt is what gets you an education.
So many things fail to interest us, simply because they don’t find in us enough surfaces on which to live, and what we have to do is to increase the number of planes in our mind, so that a much larger number of themes can find a plane in it at the same time.
The unity of the perceptual field . . . must be a unity of bodily experience. Your perception takes place where you are and is entirely dependent on how your body is functioning.
What you are looking for is who is looking.
If we had a keen vision of all ordinary life, it would be like hearing the grass grow or the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of the roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well-wadded with stupidity.
I am not worried about possessions anymore, but each one of them tells a story. I notice the objects, rugs, furniture, and photographs and am reminded of the lessons that needed to be learned at that time. I consciously remember, so that I don’t forget again. It is an art — to recollect an experience in past time, knowing that in reality there is no such thing, and to bring the experience into present time is a useful form. The key is relatively simple, and that is that we are continuously being given experiences, out of which we can learn. Once understood, we do not need the experience anymore. Perhaps the greatest teacher and lesson of all is life itself.
The truth knocks on the door and you say, “Go away, I’m looking for the truth,” and so it goes away.
I used to be Snow White, but then I drifted.
One day it was announced by Master Joshu that the young monk Kyogen had reached an enlightened state. Much impressed by this news, several of his peers went to speak with him.
“We have heard that you are enlightened. Is this true?” his fellow students inquired.
“It is,” Kyogen answered.
“Tell us,” said a friend, “how do you feel?”
“As miserable as ever,” replied the enlightened Kyogen.
There are no perfect beings, and there never will be.
While it’s summer people say Winter is the better season. Such is human reason!
Unearned knowledge rules its wielder, to the cost of both.
I try to open up my heart as much as I can and keep a real keen eye out that I don’t get sentimental. I think we’re all afraid to reveal our hearts. It’s not at all in fashion, which I think is one of the reasons I don’t like fashion. It’s very heartless. So I feel I should try to reveal. And when you hit it right, you produce an emotional response in the listener that can be cathartic. And when you’re wrong, you’re soppy, sentimental. Or you can go the other way and try to be more enigmatic. When it works, that’s good. It mystifies, like a good puzzle or a magic trick. When you miss, it’s pretentious. I find it very painful to miss on either side.
It’s amazing how potent cheap music can be.
Death is the remedy all singers dream of.
When a piece enters the soul of a man who knows music, autumn seems eternal from the terrace.
We avoid as long as possible making ourselves conscious of those things which wholeness still lacks, thus preventing ourselves from becoming conscious of the self and preparing for death.
A professor must have a theory, as a dog must have fleas.
The magic of children is their ability to cloud our memories so that when we look back we recall only the golden moments, the sweet laughter and the sentimental tears, and none of the awful trials.