75,305 books
—
279,362 voters
n y m p h
https://www.goodreads.com/ancientnymph
to-read
(946)
currently-reading (9)
read (67)
classics (132)
日本 (122)
中国 (88)
poetry (83)
essays (60)
currently-reading (9)
read (67)
classics (132)
日本 (122)
中国 (88)
poetry (83)
essays (60)
ελλάδα_roma
(38)
contemporary (32)
buddhism (21)
linguistics (21)
histories (19)
sexualité (16)
россия (16)
随筆 (16)
contemporary (32)
buddhism (21)
linguistics (21)
histories (19)
sexualité (16)
россия (16)
随筆 (16)

“By the dim light of the hanging lantern she looked incredibly ancient and awe-inspiring. She spoke in the impressive voice one would expect from someone who had been in sacred service for so long, and I was convinced that she was no ordinary mortal but a manifesting of the Goddess herself.”
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams

“And more, my son! for more than once when I
Sat all alone, revolving in myself
The word that is the symbol of myself,
The mortal limit of the Self was loosed,
And past into the Nameless, as a cloud
Melts into Heaven. I touch’d my limbs, the limbs
Were strange not mine – and yet no shade of doubt,
But utter clearness, and thro’ loss of Self
The gain of such large life as match’d with ours
Were Sun to spark – unshadowable in words,
Themselves but shadows of a shadow-world.”
― The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson
Sat all alone, revolving in myself
The word that is the symbol of myself,
The mortal limit of the Self was loosed,
And past into the Nameless, as a cloud
Melts into Heaven. I touch’d my limbs, the limbs
Were strange not mine – and yet no shade of doubt,
But utter clearness, and thro’ loss of Self
The gain of such large life as match’d with ours
Were Sun to spark – unshadowable in words,
Themselves but shadows of a shadow-world.”
― The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson

“Dame Folly and us
There is being; but by what name
To call it? It’s neither sleep nor waking;
It’s between them, and in man through it
Saneness borders on insanity.
He is in the fullness of his reason,
But at the same time visions, like waves,
Run against him from all sides,
Each one more rebellious and willful than the last,
As if he were given to the elemental
Bewilderment of his ancient homeland.
But sometimes, set on fi re by a dream,
He sees a light not revealed to others.”
―
There is being; but by what name
To call it? It’s neither sleep nor waking;
It’s between them, and in man through it
Saneness borders on insanity.
He is in the fullness of his reason,
But at the same time visions, like waves,
Run against him from all sides,
Each one more rebellious and willful than the last,
As if he were given to the elemental
Bewilderment of his ancient homeland.
But sometimes, set on fi re by a dream,
He sees a light not revealed to others.”
―
“One bright moonlit night, when I was on a journey and staying in a house by a bamboo grove, I awoke to the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind. As I lay there, unable to go back to sleep, I wrote the poem,
'Night after night I lie awake,
Listening to the rustle of the bamboo leaves,
And a strange sadness fills my heart.”
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams
'Night after night I lie awake,
Listening to the rustle of the bamboo leaves,
And a strange sadness fills my heart.”
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams
“He spoke about the different beauties of Spring and Autumn. 'Each has its own delight,' he said. 'On Spring nights the sky is beautifully shrouded with mist. The moon then is not too bright and its light seems to be floating away in the distance. How delightful it is at such a time to hear someone plucking gently at the strings of a lute that have been set in the key of the Fragrant Breeze! When Autumn comes the sky is still misty, but the lucent moon shines through so clearly that one feels one could pick it up in one's hands. The soughing of the wind and the hum of the insects blend in such a way that all the savours of Nature seem to have come together. At such moments the strumming of the great zither accompanied by the clear notes of a flute makes one wonder how one could ever have admired Spring. But then there is a Winter night when the sky is chill, the air bitter cold, and the piles of snow reflect in the moonlight.”
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams
― As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams

Are you interested in world literature, and works in translation? Come here for recommendations, resources, links, advice on who the best translator o ...more
n y m p h’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at n y m p h’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by n y m p h
Lists liked by n y m p h