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“Great understanding is broad and unhurried”
little understanding is cramped and busy. Great words are clear and limpid“When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality.”
Henry David Thoreau, Walden“Drifting across the vast space, silent except for wind and footsteps, I felt uncluttered and unhurried for the first time in a while, already on desert time.”
Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking“Inner peace is impossible without patience. Wisdom requires patience. Spiritual growth implies the mastery of patience. Patience allows the unfolding of destiny to proceed at its won unhurried pace.”
Brian L. Weiss, Muchas Vidas, Muchos Maestros“He read it over twenty times and though the darkness that sang on held steady about him, the unhurried words fell bright through his mind, going down golden through deep water, and when one passed another came, ceaselessly, shining.”
Elizabeth Spencer, This Crooked Way“I care not what black spiritual crisis we may come through or what delightful spiritual Canaan we may enter no blessing of the Christian life becomes continually possessed unless we are men and women of regular daily unhurried secret lingerings in prayer.”
J. Sidlow Baxter“He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they’d ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.”
Jessica Lemmon, If You Dare“If we respected only what is inevitable and has a right to be, music and poetry would resound along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. This is always exhilarating and sublime.”
Henry David Thoreau, Walden“From time to time, too, and for the space of two or three paces, an image or an echo would rise up from the recesses of time: in the little streets of the beaters of silver and gold, for instance, there was a clear, unhurried tinkling, as if a djinn with a thousand arms was absent-mindedly practising on a xylophone.”
Claude Lévi-Strauss, Tristes Tropiques