Soul

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden as if in caves.

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water bath is to the body.

The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

The palm at the end of the mind, Beyond the last thought, rises… A gold-feathered bird Sings in the palm.

Call the world if you please ‘The vale of soul-making’.

All men's souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine.

I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary.

What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?

The soul takes nothing with her to the next world but her education and her culture. At the beginning of the journey to the next world, one's education and culture can either provide the greatest assistance, or else act as the greatest burden, to the person who has just died.

All customs and traditions, all our way of life, everything to do with home and order, has crumbled into dust in the general upheaval and reorganization of society. The whole human way of life has been destroyed and ruined. All that’s left is the naked human soul stripped to the last shred, for which nothing has changed because it was always cold and shivering and reaching out to its nearest neighbor, as cold and lonely as itself.

Adventure most unto itself The Soul condemned to be— Attended by a single Hound Its own identity.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

But it is the same with man as with the tree. The more he seeks to rise into the height and light, the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark, the deep - into evil.

O the one life within us and abroad, Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Rhythm in all thought, and joyance everywhere— Methinks, it should have been impossible Not to love all things in a world so filled.

I wish to make a noise with my feet. I want my soul to find its proper body.

Music is feeling, then, not sound.

The day is not purer than the depths of my heart.

Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life’s common way, In cheerful godliness.

Out of me unworthy and unknown The vibrations of deathless music.

Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.

Bird sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest, On straining thighs.

The soul has many motions, body one.

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.