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“Might we begin then to transform our passing illuminations into abiding light?”
Huston Smith“I shed more tears than God could ever have required.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations“From castles of bone unknown music comes But now, that toil rewarded; you, your calculations,––you, your fits of impatience––are no more than your dancing and your voice, not fixed and certainly not forced, although an added reason for a double consequence of inventiveness + success, ––in brotherly and discreet humanity throughout the universe devoid of images;––force and justice reflect thedancing and the voices which are only now esteemed. The voices of instruction in exile... The body’s ingenuousness bit- terly put in its place... –– Adagio –– Ah! the infinite egotism of adolescence, the studious optimism: how full of flowers the world was that summer! Tunes and forms fading... ––A choir, to calm down impotence and absence! A choir of glass pieces, of nocturnal melodies... Soon, indeed, the nerves will slip their moorings.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations“True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.”
Arthur Rimbaud, Illuminations“As it is with spiritual discoveries and affections given at first conversion, so it is in all subsequent illuminations and affections of that kind; they are all transforming. There is a like divine power and energy in them as in the first discoveries; they still reach the bottom of the heart, and affect and alter the very nature of the soul, in proportion to the degree in which they are given. And a transformation of nature is continued and carried on by them to the end of life, until it is brought to perfection in glory.”
Jonathan Edwards, The Religious Affections“Any order is a balancing act of extreme precariousness.”
Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections“This process of assimilation, which takes place in depth, requires a state of relaxation that is becoming rarer and rarer. If sleep is the apogee of physical relaxation, boredom is the apogee of mental relaxation. Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience. A rustling in the leaves drives him away. His nesting places - the activities that are intimately associated with boredom - are already extinct in the cities and are declining in the country as well. With this the gift for listening is lost and the community of listeners disappears. For storytelling is always the art of repeated stories, and this art is lost when the stories are no longer retained.”
Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections“Languages are not strangers to on another.”
Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections“What has been forgotten.... is never something purely individual.”
Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections