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Se verdadeiramente amo alguém, então amo a todos, amo o mundo, amo a vida. Se posso dizer a outrem, Eu te amo, devo ser capaz de dizer: Amo em ti a todos, através de ti amo o mundo, amo-me a mim mesmo em ti.

Quando eu digo que "amo”, não sou eu quem ama; na realidade, é o amor que age através de mim. O amor não é algo que faço, mas algo que sou, ele não
é um fazer, é um estado de ser.

O amor (a caridade) desculpa tudo, acredita em tudo, espera tudo, suporta tudo. (I Cor XIII,7)... Pois nós somos, no sentido mais profundo, as vítimas, ou os meios ou instrumentos do "amor"

A psicologia como a Ciência tem suas limitações e, assim como a consequência lógica da teologia é o misticismo, também a conseqüência derradeira da psicologia é o amor.

Faz parte do trabalho do terapeuta restaurar no homem as feridas do desamor, resgatando nele a possibilidade amorosa. É o amor a serviço do resgate da amorosidade.

Em outras palavras, a noção de awareness indica um tipo de consciência não egoica. Não se considera também o inconsciente como instância determinante do sentido da experiência. Tampouco se acredita que haja qualquer tipo de determinismo social.

você sabe que tudo em você me agrada, vamos fazer as pazes.

“The real world, lady. It’s out there. Do you even know that? You’re going to have to get back to it sometime.”

Caroline’s pieces, fragmented narratives involving anxious young women who clearly have never had jobs, who instead brood through afternoonish times of day, think quirky thoughts, bake, and are wistful.

Did he carve those words into her peaches-and-cream flesh or did she, while he merely leaned back on her couch and observed, encouraged, supervised with eyes like smoking tar, asking softly what good is it to be left with no trace, to be wounded without the pleasure of a scar?

We girls have really Tapped the Wound.

ai eu amo tanto essa história

never known how to be in this world without most of my soul dreaming up and living in another.

Why do you lie so much? And about the weirdest little things? my mother always asked me.
I don’t know, I always said. But I did know. It was very simple. Because it was a better story.

R u coming tonite? ☺

It seems to me that out attachment to purpose is
born from our need to prove something to
ourselves. But life is simply life, and is not trying to
prove anything at all. This springtime will not
try to be better than last springtime, and neither
will an ash tree try to become an oak.

Life is not a task. There is absolutely nothing to
attain except the realisation that there is absolutely
nothing to attain.
No amount of effort will ever persuade oneness
to appear. All that is needed is a leap in perception,
a different seeing, already inherent but
unrecognised.

For I am already that which I seek. Whatever I
seek or think I want, however long the shopping
list may be, all of my desires are only a reflection of
my longing to come home. And home is oneness,
home is my original nature. It is right here, simply
in what is. There is nowhere else I have to go, and
nothing else I have to become.

We may give our human loves the unconditional allegiance which we owe only to God. Then they become gods: then they become demons. Then they will destroy us, and also destroy themselves. For natural loves that are allowed to become gods do not remain loves. They are still called so, but can become in fact complicated forms of hatred.

Our loves do not make their claim to divinity until the claim becomes plausible. It does not become plausible until there is in them a real resemblance to God, to Love Himself.

Since we do in reality need one another (‘it is not good for man to be alone’), then the failure of this need to appear as Need-love in consciousness—in other words, the illusory feeling that it is good for us to be alone—is a bad spiritual symptom; just as lack of appetite is a bad medical symptom because men do really need food.

but our Need-love, as Plato saw, is ‘the son of Poverty’. It is the accurate reflection in consciousness of our actual nature. We are born helpless. As soon as we are fully conscious we discover loneliness. We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves.

There is only one relief: to confess, to be
caught, tried, punished. That’s the ideal of every criminal.

Estou sendo alegre neste mesmo instante porque me recuso a ser vencida: então eu amo. Como resposta. Amor impessoal, amor it, é alegria: mesmo o amor que não dá certo, mesmo o amor que termina.

A beatitude começa no momento em que o ato de pensar liberou-se da necessidade de forma. A beatitude começa no momento em que o pensar-sentir ultrapassou a necessidade de pensar do autor – este não precisa mais pensar e encontra-se agora perto da grandeza do nada.