Justin Ryan Willingham - my quote collection

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If an addict who has been completely cured starts smoking again he no longer experiences the discomfort of his first addiction. There exists, therefore, outside alkaloids and habit, a sense for opium, an intangible habit which lives on, despite the recasting of the organism. The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house.

You see few people here in America who really care very much about living a Christian life in a democratic world.
I suppose you think that persons who are as old as your father and myself are always thinking about very grave things, but I know that we are meditating the same old themes that we did when we were ten years old, only we go more gravely about it.
The longer I live the more keenly I feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is not good enough for us.
I have a very strong feeling that the opposite of love is not hate -- it's apathy. It's not giving a damn.
Every difficulty slurred over will be a ghost to disturb your repose later on.
I shall stay the way I am because I do not give a damn.
Those who eat too much or eat too little, who sleep too much or sleep too little, will not succeed in meditation. But those who are temperate in eating and sleeping, work and recreation, will come to the end of sorrow through meditation.
Neither in this world nor elsewhere is there any happiness in store for him who always doubts.
When the senses contact sense objects, a person experiences cold or heat, pleasure or pain. These experiences are fleeting they come and go. Bear them patiently.
The Buddhas do but tell the way; it is for you to swelter at the task.
If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst forth at once in the sky, that would be like the splendour of the Mighty One. I am mighty, world-destroying Time
Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never;Never was time it was not; End and Beginning are dreams!Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit for ever;Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house of it seems!Who knoweth it exhaustless, self-sustained,Immortal, indestructible,shall suchSay, I have killed a man, or caused to kill?Nay, but as when one layethHis worn-out robes away,And, taking new ones, sayeth,These will I wear to-day!So putteth by the spiritLightly its garb of flesh,And passeth to inheritA residence afresh.
He is not elevated by good fortune or depressed by bad. His mind is established in God, and he is free from delusion.
Better indeed is knowledge than mechanical practice. Better than knowledge is meditation. But better still is surrender of attachment to results, because there follows immediate peace.
Offer unto me that which is very dear to thee -- which thou holdest most covetable. Infinite are the results of such an offering.
The sage awakes to light in the night of all creatures. That which the world calls day is the night of ignorance to the wise.
Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what's known as infinity.
The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it's overturned the order of the soul...
I think the greatest curse of American society has been the idea of an easy millennialism -- that some new drug, or the next election or the latest in social engineering will solve everything.
Repetition is the reality and the seriousness of life.
Destiny has two ways of crushing us -- by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them.
To be sure, this requires effort and love, a careful cultivation of the spiritual life, and a watchful, honest, active oversight of all one's mental attitudes towards things and people. It is not to be learned by world-flight, running away from things, turning solitary and going apart from the world. Rather, one must learn an inner solitude, where or with whomsoever he may be. He must learn to penetrate things and find God there, to get a strong impression of God firmly fixed on his mind.
There exists only the present instant... a Now which always and without end is itself new. There is no yesterday nor any tomorrow, but only Now, as it was a thousand years ago and as it will be a thousand years hence.
All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.
If a hermit lives in a state of ecstasy, his lack of comfort becomes the height of comfort. He must relinquish it.
Life has its own hidden forces which you can only discover by living.
Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder.
The knower and the known are one. Simple people imagine that they should see God as if he stood there and they here. This is not so. God and I, we are one in knowledge.
The present generation, wearied by its chimerical efforts, relapses into complete indolence. Its condition is that of a man who has only fallen asleep towards morning: first of all come great dreams, then a feeling of laziness, and finally a witty or clever excuse for remaining in bed.
Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.
It is not heroin or cocaine that makes one an addict, it is the need to escape from a harsh reality. There are more television addicts, more baseball and football addicts, more movie addicts, and certainly more alcohol addicts in this country than there are narcotics addicts.
To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God.
Personality is only ripe when a man has made the truth his own.
In this country, don't forget, a habit is no damn private hell. There's no solitary confinement outside of jail. A habit is hell for those you love. And in this country it's the worst kind of hell for those who love you.
Purity of heart is to will one thing.
Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drinking.
Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. Can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts, where all that we have loved or shall love must die? Is death, then, the secret of life? The gloom of an eternal mourning enwraps, more or less closely, every serious and thoughtful soul, as night enwraps the universe.
Jesus might have said, I became man for you. If you do not become God for me, you wrong me.
It is quite true what Philosophy says: that Life must be understood backwards. But that makes one forget the other saying: that it must be lived --forwards. The more one ponders this, the more it comes to mean that life in the temporal existence never becomes quite intelligible, precisely because at no moment can I find complete quiet to take the backward-looking position.
Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential to man. All men come into this world alone and leave it alone.
In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him.
Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events.
A man is a god in ruins.
One's condition on marijuana is always existential. One can feel the importance of each moment and how it is changing one. One feels one's being, one becomes aware of the enormous apparatus of nothingness -- the hum of a hi-fi set, the emptiness of a pointless interruption, one becomes aware of the war between each of us, how the nothingness in each of us seeks to attack the being of others, how our being in turn is attacked by the nothingness in others.
We spend our lives talking about this mystery. Our life.
I would sum up my fear about the future in one word: boring. And that's my one fear: that everything has happened; nothing exciting or new or interesting is ever going to happen again... the future is just going to be a vast, conforming suburb of the soul.
It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite.
There is nothing with which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of doing and becoming.
Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forward.
Nowadays not even a suicide kills himself in desperation. Before taking the step he deliberates so long and so carefully that he literally chokes with thought. It is even questionable whether he ought to be called a suicide, since it is really thought which takes his life. He does not die with deliberation but from deliberation.

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