classes ::: place,
children :::
branches ::: Labyrinth, Labyrinths., the Labyrinth
see also :::

Instances, Classes, See Also, Object in Names
Definitions, . Quotes . - . Chapters .


object:Labyrinth
class:place


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--- OBJECT INSTANCES [0]


--- PRIMARY CLASS


book
place

--- SEE ALSO


--- SIMILAR TITLES [2]


Labyrinth
Labyrinths.
the Labyrinth
select ::: Being, God, injunctions, media, place, powers, subjects,
favorite ::: cwsa, everyday, grade, mcw, memcards (table), project, project 0001, Savitri, the Temple of Sages, three js, whiteboard,
temp ::: consecration, experiments, knowledge, meditation, psychometrics, remember, responsibility, temp, the Bad, the God object, the Good, the most important, the Ring, the source of inspirations, the Stack, the Tarot, the Word, top priority, whiteboard,

--- DICTIONARIES (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)


labyrinth ::: an intricate structure of interconnecting passages through which it is difficult to find one’s way; a maze. (Sri Aurobindo employs the word as an adj.) :::

labyrinthine ::: resembling a labyrinth in complexity. :::

labyrinthal ::: a. --> Pertaining to, or resembling, a labyrinth; intricate; labyrinthian.

labyrinthian ::: a. --> Intricately winding; like a labyrinth; perplexed; labyrinthal.

labyrinthibranch ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the Labyrinthici. ::: n. --> One of the Labyrinthici.

labyrinthical ::: a. --> Like or pertaining to a labyrinth.

labyrinthici ::: n. pl. --> An order of teleostean fishes, including the Anabas, or climbing perch, and other allied fishes.

labyrinthic ::: a. --> Alt. of Labyrinthical

labyrinthiform ::: a. --> Having the form of a labyrinth; intricate.

labyrinthine ::: a. --> Pertaining to, or like, a labyrinth; labyrinthal.

labyrinth ::: n. --> An edifice or place full of intricate passageways which render it difficult to find the way from the interior to the entrance; as, the Egyptian and Cretan labyrinths.
Any intricate or involved inclosure; especially, an ornamental maze or inclosure in a park or garden.
Any object or arrangement of an intricate or involved form, or having a very complicated nature.
An inextricable or bewildering difficulty.

labyrinthodon ::: n. --> A genus of very large fossil amphibians, of the Triassic period, having bony plates on the under side of the body. It is the type of the order Labyrinthodonta. Called also Mastodonsaurus.

labyrinthodonta ::: n. pl. --> An extinct order of Amphibia, including the typical genus Labyrinthodon, and many other allied forms, from the Carboniferous, Permian, and Triassic formations. By recent writers they are divided into two or more orders. See Stegocephala.

labyrinthodont ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the Labyrinthodonta. ::: n. --> One of the Labyrinthodonta.

labyrinthal ::: a. --> Pertaining to, or resembling, a labyrinth; intricate; labyrinthian.

labyrinthian ::: a. --> Intricately winding; like a labyrinth; perplexed; labyrinthal.

labyrinthibranch ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the Labyrinthici. ::: n. --> One of the Labyrinthici.

labyrinthical ::: a. --> Like or pertaining to a labyrinth.

labyrinthici ::: n. pl. --> An order of teleostean fishes, including the Anabas, or climbing perch, and other allied fishes.

labyrinthic ::: a. --> Alt. of Labyrinthical

labyrinthiform ::: a. --> Having the form of a labyrinth; intricate.

labyrinthine ::: a. --> Pertaining to, or like, a labyrinth; labyrinthal.

labyrinth ::: n. --> An edifice or place full of intricate passageways which render it difficult to find the way from the interior to the entrance; as, the Egyptian and Cretan labyrinths.
Any intricate or involved inclosure; especially, an ornamental maze or inclosure in a park or garden.
Any object or arrangement of an intricate or involved form, or having a very complicated nature.
An inextricable or bewildering difficulty.

labyrinthodon ::: n. --> A genus of very large fossil amphibians, of the Triassic period, having bony plates on the under side of the body. It is the type of the order Labyrinthodonta. Called also Mastodonsaurus.

labyrinthodonta ::: n. pl. --> An extinct order of Amphibia, including the typical genus Labyrinthodon, and many other allied forms, from the Carboniferous, Permian, and Triassic formations. By recent writers they are divided into two or more orders. See Stegocephala.

labyrinthodont ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the Labyrinthodonta. ::: n. --> One of the Labyrinthodonta.

Labyrinth [from Greek labyrinthos probably from laura crypt] The complex prison built for King Minos of Crete by Daedalus to house the Minotaur. Theseus succeeded in finding his way out with the aid of the thread given him by the king’s daughter, Ariadne. Symbolically, it may be the celestial labyrinth, into which the souls of the departed plunge, and also its earthly counterpart, as shown in the tortuous subterranean chambers in ancient Egypt, or similar constructions under temples in various ancient lands. These labyrinths also symbolized the races of mankind, and the succession of gods, demigods, and heroes who preceded mortal kings. These underground chambers in general were used as initiation chambers in the Mysteries, where candidates were taught by actual experience various truths regarding human destiny after death; hence there was an exact analogy between the physical construction of these chambers and the truths thus symbolized. The labyrinth therefore refers both to an inner and outer mystery. One of the coins unearthed at Knossos in Crete showed a diagram of such a maze, and this identical pattern, exact to the last important detail, has been found among the Pima Indians of Arizona (cf Theosophical Path, April 1925). Clearly its real significance was common knowledge to initiates in all parts of the world.

labyrinth ::: an intricate structure of interconnecting passages through which it is difficult to find one’s way; a maze. (Sri Aurobindo employs the word as an adj.) :::

labyrinthine ::: resembling a labyrinth in complexity. :::

labyrinth ::: Referring to the internal ear; comprises the cochlea, vestibular apparatus, and the bony canals in which these structures are housed.


--- QUOTES [36 / 36 - 500 / 737] (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)



KEYS (10k)

   27 Jorge Luis Borges
   3 Peter J Carroll
   1 Sri Ramana Maharshi
   1 Joseph Campbell
   1 H P Lovecraft
   1 Friedrich Nietzsche
   1 Francis Thompson
   1 Federico Garcia Lorca

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

  103 John Green
   19 Jorge Luis Borges
   15 Haruki Murakami
   10 Friedrich Nietzsche
   6 Rick Riordan
   6 Catherynne M Valente
   5 Gabriel Garc a M rquez
   5 Carlos Ruiz Zaf n
   5 Audrey Niffenegger
   5 Anonymous
   4 Rebecca Solnit
   4 Carlos Ruiz Zafon
   3 Victor Hugo
   3 Ursula K Le Guin
   3 Umberto Eco
   3 Terry Pratchett
   3 Philip Roth
   3 Neal Stephenson
   3 Marcel Duchamp
   3 Joseph Campbell
   3 John Calvin
   3 Isabel Allende
   3 H P Lovecraft
   3 Galileo Galilei
   2 Stanis aw Lem
   2 S Jae Jones
   2 Romain Gary
   2 Roberto Bola o
   2 Robert Browning
   2 Peter Ackroyd
   2 Paul Auster
   2 Patti Smith
   2 Melissa Febos
   2 Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
   2 Kristin Cashore
   2 John Milton
   2 J K Rowling
   2 Jeremy Denk
   2 Hermann Hesse
   2 Henry James
   2 Halld r Kiljan Laxness
   2 Erica Jong
   2 Edith Wharton
   2 Cassandra Clare
   2 Ana s Nin

1:My undertaking is not difficult, essentially. ... I should only have to be immortal to carry it out. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths ,
2:All men who repeat a line from Shakespeare are William Shakespeare ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
3:There is no need to build a labyrinth when the entire universe is one. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
4:I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads ~ Federico Garcia Lorca,
5:Historical truth, for him, is not what has happened; it is what we judge to have happened. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
6:In death we shall rediscover all the instants of our life and we shall freely combine them as in dreams. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
7:With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he too was a mere appearance, dreamt by another. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
8:I cannot lament the loss of a love or a friendship without meditating that one loses only what one really never had. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
9:I am god, I am hero, I am philosopher, I am demon and I am world, which is a tedious way of saying that I do not exist. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
10:I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths ,
11:Fortunate is the man who does not lose himself in the labyrinths of philosophy, but goes straight to the Source from which they all rise. ~ Sri Ramana Maharshi, Guru Ramana: Memories and Notes Sulman Samuel Cohen,
12:The author of an atrocious undertaking ought to imagine that he has already accomplished it, ought to impose upon himself a future as irrevocable as the past. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
13:The truth is that we live out our lives putting off all that can be put off; perhaps we all know deep down that we are immortal and that sooner or later all men will do and know all things. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Funes the Memorious,
14:I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;I fled Him, down the arches of the years;I fled Him, down the labyrinthine waysOf my own mind; and in the mist of tearsI hid from Him, and under running laughter. ~ Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven ,
15:Like all those possessing a library, Aurelian was aware that he was guilty of not knowing his in its entirety; this controversy enabled him to fulfill his obligations with many books which seemed to reproach him for his neglect. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths The Theologians,
16:Ts'ui Pe must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths ,
17:If honor and wisdom and happiness are not for me, let them be for others. Let heaven exist, though my place be in hell. Let me be outraged and annihilated, but for one instant, in one being, let Your enormous Library be justified. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
18:God made Himself totally a man but a man to the point of infamy, a man to the point of reprobation and the abyss. To save us, He could have chosen *any* of the destinies which make up the complex web of history; He could have been Alexander or Pythagoras or Rurik or Jesus; He chose the vilest destiny of all: He was Judas. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
19:This has happened and will happen again,' said Euphorbus. 'You are not lighting a pyre, you are lighting a labyrinth of flames. If all the fires I have seen were gathered together here, they would not fit on earth and the angels would be blinded. I have said this many times.' Then he cried out, because the flames had reached him. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
20:All the objects-organic and inorganic alike-were totally beyond description or even comprehension. Gilman sometimes compared the inorganic masses to prisms, labyrinths, clusters of cubes and planes, and Cyclopean buildings; and the organic things struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindoo idols, and intricate Arabesques roused into a kind of ophidian animation. ~ H P Lovecraft,
21:Augustine had written that Jesus is the straight path that saves us from the circular labyrinth followed by the impious; these Aurelian, laboriously trivial, compared with Ixion, with the liver of Prometheus, with Sisyphus, with the king of Thebes who saw two suns, with stuttering, with parrots, with mirrors, with echoes, with the mules of a noria and with two-horned syllogisms. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labryinths The Theologians,
22:Whoever has seen the universe, whoever has beheld the fiery designs of the universe, cannot think in terms of one man, of that man's trivial fortunes or misfortunes, though he be that very man. That man has been he and now matters no more to him. What is the life of that other to him, the nation of that other to him, if he, now, is no one? This is why I do not pronounce the formula, why, lying here in the darkness, I let the days obliterate me. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
23:Tennyson said that if we could understand a single flower we would know who we are and what the world is. Perhaps he meant that there is no deed, however so humble, which does not implicate universal history and the infinite concatenation of causes and effects. Perhaps he meant that the visible world is implicit, in its entirety, in each manifestation, just as, in the same way, will, according to Schopenhauer, is implicit, in its entirety, in each individual. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
24:And yet, and yet... Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent desperations and secret consolations. Our destiny ... is not frightful by being unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and iron-clad. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
25:The end of this story can only be related in metaphors since it takes place in the kingdom of heaven, where there is no time. Perhaps it would be correct to say that Aurelian spoke with God and that He was so little interested in religious differences that He took him for John of Pannonia. This, however, would imply a confusion in the divine mind. It is more correct to say that in Paradise, Aurelian learned that, for the unfathomable divinity, he and John of Pannonia (the orthodox believer and the heretic, the abhorrer and the abhorred, the accuser and the accused) formed one single person. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths The Theologians,
26:To do this is to enter the magical world view in its totality. He takes complete responsibility for his present incarnation and must consider every experience, thing, or piece of information which assails him from any source, as a reflection of the way he is conducting his existence. The idea that things happen to one that may or may not be related to the way one acts is an illusion created by our shallow awareness. Keeping a close eye on the walls of the labyrinth, the conditions of his existence, the magician may then begin his invocation. The genius is not something added to oneself. Rather it is a stripping away of excess to reveal the god within. ~ Peter J Carroll, Liber Null ,
27:The most spiritual men, as the strongest, find their happiness where others would find their downfall: in the labyrinth, in hardness towards oneself and others, in experiment; their delight lies in self-mastery: asceticism is with them nature, need, instinct. The difficult task they consider a privilege; to play with burdens that crush others, a recreation... Knowledge - a form of asceticism. - They are the most venerable kind of man: that does not exclude their being the cheerfullest, the kindliest. They rule not because they want to but because they are; they are not free to be second. - The second type: they are the guardians of the law, the keepers of order and security; they are the noble warriors, with the king above all as the highest formula of warrior, judge, and upholder of the law. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist ,
28:2. Refusal of the Call:Often in actual life, and not infrequently in the myths and popular tales, we encounter the dull case of the call unanswered; for it is always possible to turn the ear to other interests. Refusal of the summons converts the adventure into its negative. Walled in boredom, hard work, or 'culture,' the subject loses the power of significant affirmative action and becomes a victim to be saved. His flowering world becomes a wasteland of dry stones and his life feels meaningless-even though, like King Minos, he may through titanic effort succeed in building an empire or renown. Whatever house he builds, it will be a house of death: a labyrinth of cyclopean walls to hide from him his minotaur. All he can do is create new problems for himself and await the gradual approach of his disintegration. ~ Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces ,
29:At first cautiously, later indifferently, at last desperately, I wandered up the stairs and along the pavement of the inextricable palace. (Afterwards I learned that the width and height of the steps were not constant, a fact which made me understand the singular fatigue they produced). 'This palace is a fabrication of the gods,' I thought at the beginning. I explored the uninhabited interiors and corrected myself: ' The gods who built it have died.' I noted its peculiarities and said: 'The gods who built it were mad.' I said it, I know, with an incomprehensible reprobation which was almost remorse, with more intellectual horror than palpable fear... ...'This City' (I thought) 'is so horrible that its mere existence and perdurance, though in the midst of a secret desert, contaminates the past and the future and in some way even jeopardizes the stars. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
30:He told me that in 1886 he had invented an original system of numbering and that in a very few days he had gone beyond the twenty-four-thousand mark. He had not written it down, since anything he thought of once would never be lost to him. His first stimulus was, I think, his discomfort at the fact that the famous thirty-three gauchos of Uruguayan history should require two signs and two words, in place of a single word and a single sign. He then applied this absurd principle to the other numbers. In place of seven thousand thirteen he would say (for example) Maximo Pérez; in place of seven thousand fourteen, The Railroad; other numbers were Luis Melian Lafinur, Olimar, sulphur, the reins, the whale, the gas, the caldron, Napoleon, Agustin de Vedia. In place of five hundred, he would say nine. Each word had a particular sign, a kind of mark; the last in the series were very complicated... ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
31:Gradually, the concrete enigma I labored at disturbed me less than the generic enigma of a sentence written by a god. What type of sentence (I asked myself) will an absolute mind construct? I considered that even in the human languages there is no proposition that does not imply the entire universe: to say "the tiger" is to say the tigers that begot it, the deer and turtles devoured by it, the grass on which the deer fed, the earth that was mother to the grass, the heaven that gave birth to the earth. I considered that in the language of a god every word would enunciate that infinite concatenation of facts, and not in an implicit but in an explicit manner, and not progressively but instantaneously. In time, the notion of a divine sentence seemed puerile or blasphemous. A god, I reflected, ought to utter only a single word and in that word absolute fullness. No word uttered by him can be inferior to the universe or less than the sum total of time. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
32:A person doing his true will is assisted by the momentum of the universe and seems possessed of amazing good luck. In beginning the great work of obtaining the knowledge and conversation, the magician vows 'to interpret every manifestation of existence as a direct message from the infinite Chaos to himself personally' To do this is to enter the magical world view in its totality. He takes complete responsibility for his present incarnation and must consider every experience, thing, or piece of information which assails him from any source, as a reflection of the way he is conducting his existence. The idea that things happen to one that may or may not be related to the way one acts is an illusion created by our shallow awareness. Keeping a close eye on the walls of the labyrinth, the conditions of his existence, the magician may then begin his invocation. The genius is not something added to oneself. Rather it is a stripping away of excess to reveal the god within. ~ Peter J Carroll, Liber Null Liber LUX,
33:On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. The Aleph's diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there, actual and undiminished. Each thing (a mirror's face, let us say) was infinite things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I'd seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand... ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph ,
34:The PalaceThe Palace is not infinite.The walls, the ramparts, the gardens, the labyrinths, the staircases, the terraces, the parapets, the doors, the galleries, the circular or rectangular patios, the cloisters, the intersections, the cisterns, the anterooms, the chambers, the alcoves, the libraries, the attics, the dungeons, the sealed cells and the vaults, are not less in quantity than the grains of sand in the Ganges, but their number has a limit. From the roofs, towards sunset, many people can make out the forges, the workshops, the stables, the boatyards and the huts of the slaves.It is granted to no one to traverse more than an infinitesimal part of the palace. Some know only the cellars. We can take in some faces, some voices, some words, but what we perceive is of the feeblest. Feeble and precious at the same time. The date which the chisel engraves in the tablet, and which is recorded in the parochial registers, is later than our own death; we are already dead when nothing touches us, neither a word nor a yearning nor a memory. I know that I am not dead. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Book of Sand ,
35:He had no document but his memory; the training he had acquired with each added hexameter gave him a discipline unsuspected by those who set down and forget temporary, incomplete paragraphs. He was not working for posterity or even for God, whose literary tastes were unknown to him. Meticulously, motionlessly, secretly, he wrought in time his lofty, invisible labyrinth. He worked the third act over twice. He eliminated certain symbols as over-obvious, such as the repeated striking of the clock, the music. Nothing hurried him. He omitted, he condensed, he amplified. In certain instances he came back to the original version. He came to feel affection for the courtyard, the barracks; one of the faces before him modified his conception of Roemerstadt's character. He discovered that the wearying cacophonies that bothered Flaubert so much are mere visual superstitions, weakness and limitation of the written word, not the spoken...He concluded his drama. He had only the problem of a single phrase. He found it. The drop of water slid down his cheek. He opened his mouth in a maddened cry, moved his face, dropped under the quadruple blast. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths Selected Stories and Other Writings,
36:AUGOEIDES: The magicians most important invocation is that of his Genius, Daemon, True Will, or Augoeides. This operation is traditionally known as attaining the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel. It is sometimes known as the Magnum Opus or Great Work. The Augoeides may be defined as the most perfect vehicle of Kia on the plane of duality. As the avatar of Kia on earth, the Augoeides represents the true will, the raison detre of the magician, his purpose in existing. The discovery of ones true will or real nature may be difficult and fraught with danger, since a false identification leads to obsession and madness. The operation of obtaining the knowledge and conversation is usually a lengthy one. The magician is attempting a progressive metamorphosis, a complete overhaul of his entire existence. Yet he has to seek the blueprint for his reborn self as he goes along. Life is less the meaningless accident it seems. Kia has incarnated in these particular conditions of duality for some purpose. The inertia of previous existences propels Kia into new forms of manifestation. Each incarnation represents a task, or a puzzle to be solved, on the way to some greater form of completion. The key to this puzzle is in the phenomena of the plane of duality in which we find ourselves. We are, as it were, trapped in a labyrinth or maze. The only thing to do is move about and keep a close watch on the way the walls turn. In a completely chaotic universe such as this one, there are no accidents. Everything is signifcant. Move a single grain of sand on a distant shore and the entire future history of the world will eventually be changed. A person doing his true will is assisted by the momentum of the universe and seems possessed of amazing good luck. In beginning the great work of obtaining the knowledge and conversation, the magician vows to interpret every manifestation of existence as a direct message from the infinite Chaos to himself personally. To do this is to enter the magical world view in its totality. He takes complete responsibility for his present incarnation and must consider every experience, thing, or piece of information which assails him from any source, as a reflection of the way he is conducting his existence. The idea that things happen to one that may or may not be related to the way one acts is an illusion created by our shallow awareness. Keeping a close eye on the walls of the labyrinth, the conditions of his existence, the magician may then begin his invocation. The genius is not something added to oneself. Rather it is a stripping away of excess to reveal the god within. Directly on awakening, preferably at dawn, the initiate goes to the place of invocation. Figuring to himself as he goes that being born anew each day brings with it the chance of greater rebirth, first he banishes the temple of his mind by ritual or by some magical trance. Then he unveils some token or symbol or sigil which represents to him the Holy Guardian Angel. This symbol he will likely have to change during the great work as the inspiration begins to move him. Next he invokes an image of the Angel into his minds eye. It may be considered as a luminous duplicate of ones own form standing in front of or behind one, or simply as a ball of brilliant light above ones head. Then he formulates his aspirations in what manner he will, humbling himself in prayer or exalting himself in loud proclamation as his need be. The best form of this invocation is spoken spontaneously from the heart, and if halting at first, will prove itself in time. He is aiming to establish a set of ideas and images which correspond to the nature of his genius, and at the same time receive inspiration from that source. As the magician begins to manifest more of his true will, the Augoeides will reveal images, names, and spiritual principles by which it can be drawn into greater manifestation. Having communicated with the invoked form, the magician should draw it into himself and go forth to live in the way he hath willed. The ritual may be concluded with an aspiration to the wisdom of silence by a brief concentration on the sigil of the Augoeides, but never by banishing. Periodically more elaborate forms of ritual, using more powerful forms of gnosis, may be employed. At the end of the day, there should be an accounting and fresh resolution made. Though every day be a catalog of failure, there should be no sense of sin or guilt. Magic is the raising of the whole individual in perfect balance to the power of Infinity, and such feelings are symptomatic of imbalance. If any unnecessary or imbalanced scraps of ego become identified with the genius by mistake, then disaster awaits. The life force flows directly into these complexes and bloats them into grotesque monsters variously known as the demon Choronzon. Some magicians attempting to go too fast with this invocation have failed to banish this demon, and have gone spectacularly insane as a result. ~ Peter J Carroll, Liber Null ,

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:I choose the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
2:Get me out of this labyrinth ~ John Green,
3:I think Pans Labyrinth is genius. ~ Joe Dante,
4:Is the labyrinth living or dying? ~ John Green,
5:The labyrinth sucks, but I choose it ~ John Green,
6:The labyrinth blows, but I choose it. ~ John Green,
7:Every labyrinth has its minotaur ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
8:Every labyrinth has its minotaur ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon,
9:And I wrote my way out of the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
10:Politics are a labyrinth without a clue. ~ John Adams,
11:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ John Green,
12:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth? ~ John Green,
13:We had to forgive to survive the labyrinth ~ John Green,
14:Still more labyrinthine buds the rose. ~ Robert Browning,
15:We have to forgive to survive the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
16:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth ~ John Green,
17:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
18:How do i get out of this labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
19:How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
20:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
21:There is a labyrinth which is a straight line. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
22:Damn it, how will I ever get out of this labyrinth? ~ Simon Bolivar,
23:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
24:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
25:Music is a labyrinth with no beginning and no end, ~ Pierre Boulez,
26:and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
27:Une cour des miracles dans un labyrinthe de luxe. ~ Pierre Assouline,
28:How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
29:London is a labyrinth, half of stone and half of flesh. ~ Peter Ackroyd,
30:Which of us saved the other from the Labyrinth, Ged? ~ Ursula K Le Guin,
31:the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is forgiving ~ John Green,
32:Almost anything at all can be transmuted into a labyrinth. ~ Harold Bloom,
33:Give me a labyrinth to walk and I can usually free my mind. ~ Pam Houston,
34:The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive ~ John Green,
35:I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it. ~ John Green,
36:It only takes two facing mirrors to build a labyrinth. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
37:The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive. ~ John Green,
38:I’m a nerdy, geeky fan of Labyrinth and Dark Crystal. ~ Neil Patrick Harris,
39:Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul! ~ John Donne,
40:We have to forgive to survive in this labyrinth [of suffering] ~ John Green,
41:A labyrinth of symbols... An invisible labyrinth of time. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
42:A labyrinth, when it is big enough, is just the world. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
43:Damn it," he sighed. "How will I ever get out of this Labyrinth! ~ John Green,
44:The only person who can solve the labyrinth of yourself is You. ~ Jeremy Denk,
45:How will i ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering ? -
A Y. ~ John Green,
46:Coltrane’s labyrinthine solo plays on in my ears, never ending. ~ Haruki Murakami,
47:God and chance belonged to art, eternity and labyrinths to science. ~ Roberto Bola o,
48:The minotaur more than justifies the existence of the labyrinth. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
49:A labyrinthine man never seeks the truth, but only his Ariadne. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
50:How will you—you personally—ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
51:The more elaborate his labyrinths, the further from the Sun his face. ~ Mikhail Naimy,
52:Maybe "the afterlife" is just to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. ~ John Green,
53:Damn it,' he sighed. 'How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
54:For you know that I myself am a labyrinth, where one easily gets lost. ~ Charles Perrault,
55:How will you - you personally - ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
56:There's no need to build a labyrinth when the entire universe is one. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
57:There is no need to build a labyrinth when the entire universe is one. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
58:Is it so hard to die, Mr. Lewis? Is that labyrinth really worse than this one? ~ John Green,
59:Love is a labyrinth of misunderstandings whose way out doesn’t exist. ~ Jacques Alain Miller,
60:The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive- lookng for alaska ~ John Green,
61:The real truth must sometimes be protected by a labyrinth of lies -Vorbis- ~ Terry Pratchett,
62:I’d lived my life in a dim labyrinth of drudgery disguised as fun and pleasure. ~ Randy Alcorn,
63:...some sunny empty grass-grown court lost in the heart of the labyrinthine pile. ~ Henry James,
64:The labyrinthine man never seeks the truth but always and only his Ariadne. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
65:There's your labyrinth of suffering. We are all going. Find your way out of that maze. ~ John Green,
66:Poetry is the thread that leads us out of the labyrinth of despair and into the light. ~ Gregory Orr,
67:...you found me in my lonely labyrinth and like Beatrice, led me out of my own hell... ~ John Geddes,
68:Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape—the world or the end of it? ~ John Green,
69:The point of a maze is to find its center. The point of a labyrinth is to find your center. ~ Anonymous,
70:Tumbling into a dark, Lewis Carroll labyrinth of filth, pursuing a white rabbit of smut! ~ Russell Brand,
71:… it only takes two facing mirrors to construct a labyrinth.

from "Nightmares ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
72:The whole life of man until he is converted to Christ is a ruinous labyrinth of wanderings. ~ John Calvin,
73:What a bog and labyrinth the human essence is... We are all overbrained and overemotioned. ~ Barry Hannah,
74:The nature of the labyrinth, I scribbled into my spiral notebook, and the way out of it. This ~ John Green,
75:But to Lord Peter the world presented itself as an entertaining labyrinth of side-issues ~ Dorothy L Sayers,
76:I think—the hero observes that nothing is so frightening as a labyrinth with no center. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
77:I was born into Bolivar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps. ~ John Green,
78:I was born into Bolívar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps. ~ John Green,
79:It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. ~ John Green,
80:and dangerous depths of the labyrinth that was her depression. It had prevented her from slipping ~ Gilly Macmillan,
81:Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief. ~ John Milton,
82:The girl was a labyrinth to him; only by chance and error did he ever stumble blindly into her heart. ~ Michael Chabon,
83:There should always be in sight the draw — a kind of a beacon that draws you on through the labyrinth. ~ Stewart Brand,
84:Old Cairo is itself a story-book and a dream--labyrinths of narrow alleys redolent of aromatic secrets; ~ H P Lovecraft,
85:Although some of us get lost in the labyrinth of our own insecurities, it’s possible to find our way out. ~ Leisa Rayven,
86:Meditative prayer like that we experienced in the labyrinth resonates with hearts of emerging generations. ~ Dan Kimball,
87:The secret to the labyrinth is always at the beginning. Before you enter. Once you do it is too late. ~ Georgia Le Carre,
88:accepting his patronage as he accepted every incident of the labyrinthian world in which he had got lost. ~ Charles Dickens,
89:Ah, but are we not, in some ways, all trapped in a labyrinth of our own making?" the Goblin King asked lightly. ~ S Jae Jones,
90:A man in his own secret meditation / Is lost amid the labyrinth that he has made / In art or politics. ~ William Butler Yeats,
91:the afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. ~ Anonymous,
92:we are like the wizard who weaves a labyrinth and is forced to wander through it till the end of his days ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
93:Desires, memories, fears, passions form labyrinths in which we lose and find and then lose ourselves again. ~ Bernhard Schlink,
94:It is, indeed, very little that we need! But lacking that, the adventure into the labyrinth is without hope. ~ Joseph Campbell,
95:The female heart is a labyrinth of subtleties, too challenging for the uncouth mind of the male racketeer. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
96:Labyrinths were old sorcery, and subtle: good for recharging one’s magical resources when they were running low. ~ Lev Grossman,
97:Loving another person is a wonderful thing, and if that love is sincere, no one ends up tossed in a labyrinth. ~ Haruki Murakami,
98:Politics is a tangled web, an intricate labyrinth, an ever-shifting kaleidoscopic pattern. And it is not pretty. ~ Brian Herbert,
99:The only way to get through this whole labyrinth thing, like most other crappy things, was to just get through it. ~ Kami Garcia,
100:Where he had failed, I would triumph. Where he had lost his way, I would find the path out of the labyrinth. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon,
101:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast. ~ John Green,
102:She became his Ariadne, leading him through the labyrinth of books, stopping now and then to pass another one to him. ~ Donna Leon,
103:Let's make a deal: You figure out what the labyrinth is and how to get out of it, and i'll get you laid. -Alaska Young ~ John Green,
104:Where he had failed, I would triumph.
Where he had lost his way, I would find the path out of the labyrinth. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
105:I had been chipping at the world idly, and had by accident uncovered vast and labyrinthine further worlds within it. ~ Annie Dillard,
106:For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths. ~ Roberto Bolano,
107:For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths… ~ Roberto Bola o,
108:The worst labyrinth is not that intricate form that can entrap us forever, but a single and precise straight line ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
109:That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape - the world or the end of it? ~ John Green,
110:That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape---the world or the end of it? ~ John Green,
111:You’ve wandered into a labyrinth of time, and the biggest problem of all is that you have no desire at all to get out. ~ Haruki Murakami,
112:I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads ~ Federico Garcia Lorca,
113:He's complicated and complex, a labyrinth I want to lose myself in. He's my fighter, and I really want to fight to be with him. ~ Katy Evans,
114:This is one of the two great labyrinths into which human minds are drawn: the question of free will versus predestination. ~ Neal Stephenson,
115:Underneath Day's azure eyes, Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, A peopled labyrinth of walls, Amphitrite's destined halls ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley,
116:Chiron insisted that we talk about the Labyrinth in the morning which is like 'Hey, your life's in mortal danger. Sleep tight! ~ Rick Riordan,
117:A labyrinth is a symbolic journey . . . but it is a map we can really walk on, blurring the difference between map and world. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
118:she said, "That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape- the world or the end of it? ~ John Green,
119:The Gateway to Christianity is not through an intricate labyrinth of dogma, but by a simple belief in the person of Christ. ~ Norman Vincent Peale,
120:What idiocy, to racing into this story and its labyrinths, sprinting away from our happiness among the fresh spring grasses by the oak. ~ Ian McEwan,
121:What idiocy, to racing into this story and its labyrinths, sprinting away from our happiness among the fresh spring grasses by the oak. ~ Ian Mcewan,
122:Geordie wrote a letter to Mr. Webster in which the shrieking figure of Apology was hounded through a labyrinth of agonized syntax. ~ Robertson Davies,
123:I know there is no straight road
No straight road in this world
Only a giant labyrinth
Of intersecting crossroads ~ Federico Garc a Lorca,
124:Show not what has been done, but what can be. How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths. ~ Umberto Eco,
125:Look at the earth and you think it's solid," he said. "But look deeper and you'll see it's riddled with tunnels. A warren. A labyrinth. ~ David Almond,
126:Then we got into a labyrinth, and, when we thought we were at the end,
came out again at the beginning, having still to see as much as ever. ~ Plato,
127:You live in a literal prison inside the labyrinth of a demon witch who is about to kill our entire family. How can there be any hope ? ~ Zoraida C rdova,
128:Mond scheint ins Zimmer. Nichts ist real.
Jeder Augenblick unergründlich, die Welt
Kolossales Echo im Labyrinth der Sinne. ~ Hans Magnus Enzensberger,
129:With a labyrinth, you make a choice to go in - and once you've chosen, around and around you go. But you always find your way to the center. ~ Jeff Bridges,
130:Coincidences don't get questioned. That's why they are coincidences." ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n Daniel Sempere in "The Labyrinth of the Spirits ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
131:I mean, public libraries like this one were always short of money, so building even the tiniest of labyrinths had to be beyond their means. ~ Haruki Murakami,
132:To all appearances, the artist acts like a mediumistic being who, from the labyrinth beyond time and space, seeks his way out to a clearing. ~ Marcel Duchamp,
133:After all this time, it seems to me like straight and fast is the only way out- but I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it. ~ John Green,
134:Beyond the silver span of the motor bridge lay basins of cracked mud the size of ballrooms - models of a state of mind, a curvilinear labyrinth. ~ J G Ballard,
135:I thanked God for having led me through the labyrinth of darkness to the only point at which the voices of my companions could reach me. (p. 122) ~ Jules Verne,
136:going into a cave might be like going inside one's own mind, crawling around in the pitch-black, nook-and-crannied labyrinth of the human psyche. ~ Barbara Hurd,
137:Trials of a person I didn't know lost in a labyrinth of aisles formed by the immense filing cabinets of Brazil - the movie, not the country. ~ Patti Smith,
138:where there's a labyrinth, there's a minotaur, and vice versa! I can't imagine a decent maze that would be caught dead without a minotaur. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
139:We are all going,” McKinley said to his wife, and we sure are. There’s your labyrinth of suffering. We are all going. Find your way out of that maze. ~ John Green,
140:The first path a human being ever travels is the path that leads out of the maternal womb. Every human being's first labyrinth is that of a woman. ~ Jacques Attali,
141:Answers? Ha, he would say that. More like riddles, mazes, labyrinths. If there's some power trying to show me the way, it should give better directions. ~ Megan Chance,
142:it's a meeting of minds.She would tell you that's the purest kind of love

-Anabeth ,percy jackson and the olympians(the battle of the labyrinth) ~ Rick Riordan,
143:O the blest eyes, the happy hearts,
That see, that know the guiding thread so fine,
Along the mighty labyrinth."

-from "Song of the Universal ~ Walt Whitman,
144:There are moments when, if one rejects the simple and obvious promptings of duty, one finds oneself in a labyrinth of complexities of some quite new kind. ~ Iris Murdoch,
145:How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?'.... Everybody who has ever lost their way in life has felt the nagging insistence of that question. ~ John Green,
146:The labyrinth of Ephebe is ancient and full of one hundred and one amazing things you can do with hidden springs, razor-sharp knives, and falling rocks. ~ Terry Pratchett,
147:Loving another person is a wonderful thing, and if that love is sincere, no one ends up tossed into a labyrinth. You have to have more faith in yourself. ~ Haruki Murakami,
148:He who every morning plans the transactions of that day and follows that plan carries a thread that will guide him through the labyrinth of the most busy life. ~ Victor Hugo,
149:He, who every morning plans the transactions of the day, and follows that plan, carries a thread that will guide him through a labyrinth of the most busy life. ~ Victor Hugo,
150:Time passes cold and indifferent over us; it knows nothing of our joys or sorrows; it leads us with ice-cold hand deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. ~ Johann Ludwig Tieck,
151:I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
152:This is a labyrinth of wickedness and destruction and pleasure and, above all, love, because in the end it's all just one big, mind-bending love story, isn't it? ~ Ted Dekker,
153:A man sets himself the task of portraying the world. Shortly before he dies he discovers that this patient labyrinth of lines is a drawing of his own face. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
154:I know nothing of the land beyond the seven kingdoms, except for tall tales the eastern people tell about rainbow-colored monsters and underground labyrinths. ~ Kristin Cashore,
155:I still think that, sometimes, think
that maybe "the afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. ~ John Green,
156:Next she turned the gun upward and thrust the muzzle into her mouth. Now it was aimed directly at her cerebrum-- the gray labyrinth where consciousness resided. ~ Haruki Murakami,
157:So we're racing the Clare and the Courts," said Julian. "Fantastic. Maybe there's someone else we can piss off. The Spiral Labyrinth? The Scholomance? Interpol? ~ Cassandra Clare,
158:the complex integration of the three secret senses: the labyrinthine, the proprioceptive, and the visual. It is this synthesis that is impaired in Parkinsonism. The ~ Oliver Sacks,
159:A story is a labyrinth, it looks as if there were several ways to go, but only one is right, and there's a nasty surprise ready to punish you for every false step. ~ Cornelia Funke,
160:We should know by now that the most exact, most precise representation of the human heart is the labyrinth. And where the human heart is involved, anything is possible. ~ Jos Saramago,
161:All the barriers were gone. I had unwound the string she had given me, and found my way out of the labyrinth to where she was waiting. I loved her with more than my body. ~ Daniel Keyes,
162:Our love has been the thread through the
labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
163:The perspectives are so labyrinthine that several possibilities must be kept open. If there is a Creator, what is he? And if there isn’t a Creator, what is this world? ~ Jostein Gaarder,
164:To tell of disappointment and misery, to thicken the darkness of futurity, and perplex the labyrinth of uncertainty, has been always a delicious employment of the poets ~ Samuel Johnson,
165:Language is a labyrinth of paths. You approach from one side and know your way about; you approach the same place from another side and no longer know your way about. ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein,
166:At a deeper level it is a fantasy of no-limits for a people who live within a labyrinth of limits every day of their lives, and who can transgress them only among themselves. ~ Greil Marcus,
167:He was gone and did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
168:I imagined a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars.” –Jorge Luis Borges ~ Peter Morville,
169:was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
170:The bottom of the basin is a vast labyrinth of stone: mile-deep chasms; sharp reefs and table-flat mesas; crenellated buttes like castles surrounded by invisible moats. At ~ Jonathan Strahan,
171:He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
172:What doubts, what hypotheses, what labyrinths of amusement, what fields of disputation, what an ocean of false learning, may be avoided by that single notion of immaterialism! ~ George Berkeley,
173:Where do all the labyrinths of error in the world come from [the objector will continue], if not from the fact that when men follow their own minds they land in vanity and lies? So ~ John Calvin,
174:You mentioned . . . one of the two great labyrinths into which the mind is drawn. What . . . is the other?"
"The other is the composition of the continuum, or: what is space? ~ Neal Stephenson,
175:AND SO THE STORY ENDS, bracketed by two architects: Daedalus, who built the Minoan labyrinth, and Ventris, who found the thread that unraveled the tangle of writing unearthed there. ~ Margalit Fox,
176:In a matter of seconds, the world had turned into a confusing labyrinth; the truth there and not there, shifting out beneath my feet, vanishing when I tried to look it head-on. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick,
177:Whoever looks into himself as into vast space and carries galaxies in himself, also knows how irregular all galaxies are; they lead into the chaos and labyrinth of existence. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
178:The Louvre is a labyrinth existing in the space between dream and reality... within each and every (work of art) resides a soul... a requiem for the spirits living within each thing. ~ Jir Taniguchi,
179:the translator, a lonely sort of acrobat, becomes confused in a labyrinth of paradox, or climbs a pyramid of dependent clauses and has to invent a way down from it in his own language. ~ Lydia Davis,
180:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. ~ John Green,
181:Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That’s the problem. Bolívar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
182:He constructed a vast labyrinthine of periods, made impassable by the piling-up of clauses upon clauses-clauses in which oversight and bad grammar seemed manifestations of disdain. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
183:The sky was turning the color of a fresh bruise as we pulled into my grandfather's subdivision, a bewildering labyrinth of interlocking cul-de-sacs known collectively as Circle Village. ~ Ransom Riggs,
184:I think the labyrinth is an interesting metaphor for our lives as musicians. We're always being drawn toward the center of it because that's where the mystery is. What is music? It's a journey. ~ Sting,
185:The city seems to be a labyrinth that can be ordered. The world is an infinite series of curvatures or inflections, and the entire world is enclosed in the soul from one point of view. ~ Gilles Deleuze,
186:How beautiful the world is, and how ugly labyrinths are,' I said, relieved.
'How beautiful the world would be if there was a procedure for moving through labyrinths,' my master replied. ~ Umberto Eco,
187:The palace of Ephebe is a labyrinth. I know. There are traps. No one gets in without a guide.” “How does the guide get in?” said Vorbis. “I assume he guides himself,” said the general. ~ Terry Pratchett,
188:Hope is an essential thread in the fabric of all fantasies, an Ariadne's thread to guide us out of the labyrinth ... Human beings have always needed hope, and surely now more than ever. ~ Lloyd Alexander,
189:I still think that maybe the "afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe we are just matter, and matter gets recycled ~ John Green,
190:You spend your whole life, stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day and how awesome it will be. But you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
191:It’s only the sea,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Every wave that dies on the beach sings a little song to a shell. But you mustn’t go inside because it’s a labyrinth and you may never come out again. ~ Tove Jansson,
192:Another metaphorical moral seems built into these two structures, for the maze offers the confusions of free will without a clear destination, the labyrinth an inflexible route to salvation. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
193:Idolatry, then, is always polytheism, an aimless passing from one lord to another. Idolatry does not offer a journey but rather a plethora of paths leading nowhere and forming a vast labyrinth. ~ Pope Francis,
194:In these years we are witnessing the gigantic spectacle of innumerable human lives wandering about lost in their own labyrinths, through not having anything to which to give themselves. ~ Jose Ortega y Gasset,
195:If we learn to love the earth, we will find labyrinths, gardens, fountains and precious jewels! A whole new world will open itself to us. We will discover what it means to be truly alive. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila,
196:The letters, the fading. The labyrinth, the cake. The four hundred brackish lakes of the brain. She searches for the
music, but she can't find it. Oh, God, it was here
only the other day. ~ Laura Kasischke,
197:The Maze, that labyrinth of alleys called ginnels and snickets locally—tiny squares, courtyards, nooks and crannies and small warehouses that had remained unchanged since the eighteenth century. ~ Peter Robinson,
198:Any writer of any worth at all hopes to play only a pocket-torch of light - and rarely, through genius, a sudden flambeau - into the bloody yet beautiful labyrinth of human experience, of being. ~ Nadine Gordimer,
199:In relation to the labyrinth of her heart, every young girl is an Ariadne; she owns the thread by which one can find one’s way through it, but she owns it without herself knowing how to use it. ~ S ren Kierkegaard,
200:And the cavern of fire was enormous, labyrinthine, that received the man. He branched and flamed, glowed and increased, and was suddenly extinguished in the little puffs of smoke and tired thoughts. ~ Patrick White,
201:I wandered in my mind, slowly, noting every detail of the labyrinth, its paths as familiar as those of my garden and yet ever new, as empty as the heart could wish or alive with strange encounters. ~ Samuel Beckett,
202:There are things roaming around inside my head as clever as Theseus in the Labyrinth. It's just that nobody ever gave them the necessary piece of string, so they'll never find their way out. ~ Geraldine McCaughrean,
203:Ariadne in the labyrinth. The most alive of worlds, human beings with the tenderest flesh, are made of marble. I strew devastation as I pass. I wander dead-eyed through cities and petrified populations. ~ Jean Genet,
204:You cannot see the Grand Canyon in one view, as if it were a changeless spectacle from which a curtain might be lifted, but to see it you have to toil from month to month through its labyrinths. ~ John Wesley Powell,
205:And why wander in these labyrinths? Once more, for aesthetic reasons; because this present infinity, these "vertiginous symmetries," have their tragic beauty. The form is more important than the content. ~ Andr Maurois,
206:Jungles and grasslands are the logical destinations, and towns and farmland the labyrinths that people have imposed between them sometime in the past. I cherish the green enclaves accidentally left behind. ~ E O Wilson,
207:The lobbies of the new hotels and the Pan American Building exhale a chill as from the unopened Pharaonic tombs... And in their marble labyrinths there is an evil presence that hates warmth and sunlight. ~ Russell Baker,
208:Have I not?" I gestured to the night sky. "I have beaten you and your godforsaken labyrinth." "Ah, but are we not, in some ways, all trapped in a labyrinth of our own making?" the Goblin King asked lightly. ~ S Jae Jones,
209:Separated as we are by a world of water from other nations,” he explained, “if we are wise, we shall surely avoid being drawn into the labyrinth of their politics and involved in their destructive wars. ~ George C Daughan,
210:Le lecteur, lui non plus, ne voit pas les choses du dehors. Il est dans le labyrinthe aussi. The reader [as well as the main character] does not view the work from outside. He too is in the labyrinth. ~ Alain Robbe Grillet,
211:But nobody in one lifetime could read more than a fragment of what was here, this broken labyrinth of words, this shattered, interrupted story of a people and a world through the centuries, the millennia. ~ Ursula K Le Guin,
212:I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads ~ Federico Garcia Lorca Photo Sigfrid Lundberg (streetphoto from Lund, Sweden)Fab Friday to us all .... 🍂☀️🍂💃,
213:Jungles and grasslands are the logical destinations, and towns and farmland the labyrinths that people have imposed between them sometime in the past. I cherish the green enclaves accidentally left behind. ~ Edward O Wilson,
214:Speech does not always unravel matters. Words can betray you, their labyrinthine threads tangled in knots, for we were cursed at that great tower of Babel, to speak always in riddles and never yet to comprehend. ~ Ned Hayes,
215:Julian: “Wikipedia knows about everything. It might be run by warlocks.”
Emma: “You think that’s what they do all day in the Spiral Labyrinth? Run Wikipedia?”
Julian: “I admit it seems like a letdown. ~ Cassandra Clare,
216:Tengo could hardly believe it-- that in this frantic, labyrinth-like world, two people's hearts-- a boy's and a girl's-- could be connected, unchanged, even though they hadn't seen each other for twenty years. ~ Haruki Murakami,
217:Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
218:As he sits there, I feel that I can see his mind as I see his body, and it is labyrinthine, fertile, sentient. I am loaded with adoration for everything that his head contains and for the impulses which blow in gusts. ~ Ana s Nin,
219:I thought Pan's Labyrinth was one of the greatest films I've ever seen, just pure artistry. Guillermo Del Toro is just really something, this guy. And he's a real mensch: down-to-earth, funny, huggy, and terrific. ~ Jeffrey Tambor,
220:New York was an inexhaustible space, a labyrinth of endless steps, and no matter how far he walked, no matter how well he came to know its neighborhoods and streets, it always left him with the feeling of being lost. ~ Paul Auster,
221:Of their private fictions, nothing remains but an almost-island, the saga of a labyrinth with no outcome. Omen belongs to this funereal rhetoric. And meaning that builds in direct proportion to the incomprehensible. ~ Mar a Negroni,
222:I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. ~ John Green,
223:I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future . . . I felt myself to be, for an unknown period of time, an abstract perceiver of the world. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
224:Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed. ~ Stanis aw Lem,
225:Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilizations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed. ~ Stanislaw Lem,
226:In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears. ~ Mason Cooley,
227:He became lost in misty byways, in times reserved for oblivion, in labyrinths of disappointment. He crossed a yellow plain where the echo repeated one's thoughts and where anxiety brought on premonitory mirages. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
228:New York was an inexhaustible space, a labyrinth of endless steps, and no matter how far he walked, no matter how well he came to know its neighbourhoods and streets, it always left him with the feeling of being lost. Lost, ~ Paul Auster,
229:Out of abysses of Illiteracy, Through labyrinths of Lies, Across wastelands of Disease . . . We advance Out of dead-ends of Poverty, Through wilderness of Superstition, Across barricades of Jim Crowism . . . We advance. ~ Melvin B Tolson,
230:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the ~ John Green,
231:I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears. —“The Hound of Heaven” (FRANCIS THOMPSON, 1859–1907) ~ Colleen Coble,
232:I do most earnestly beg you not to be diverted from the highway of sound policy in this part of the world, both during the war and at the settlement, by wanderings into the labyrinth of Turkish duplicity and intrigue. ~ Winston S Churchill,
233:I looked up towards the immensity of the labyrinth. "How does one choose a single book among so many?" Isaac shrugged his shoulders. 'Some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person...destiny, in other words. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon,
234:You spend your whole life stuck in a labyrinth thinking of how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present ~ John Green,
235:Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside. ~ Haruki Murakami,
236:The Labyrinth, a walled garden where humans tortured plants and flowers into growing in straight lines and sharp corners so unnatural that it hurt the mind to see, was east of Thorn’s court, on the very edge of the Center Kingdom. ~ Jon Evans,
237:You spend your whole life stuck in a labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, ad how awesome it will be, and imagining the future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
238:You spend your whole life stuck in labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
239:T'appuyant, fraîche claire
rose, contre mon oeil fermé -,
on dirait mille paupières
superposées
contre la mienne chaude.
Mille sommeils contre ma feinte
sous laquelle je rôde
dans l'odorant labyrinthe. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke,
240:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
241:I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years.
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind, and in the midst of tears
I hid from him, and under running laughter. ~ Francis Thompson,
242:You spend your hole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
243:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
244:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present ~ John Green,
245:You spend your while life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
246:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
247:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
248:I can't imagine a decent maze that would be caught dead without a minotaur. It's not done! You don't go out of your house without any clothes on, and a minotaur doesn't go into the world without a labyrinth to keep him warm. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
249:I can’t imagine a decent maze that would be caught dead without a minotaur. It’s not done! You don’t go out of your house without any clothes on, and a minotaur doesn’t go into the world without a labyrinth to keep him warm. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
250:I looked up towards the immensity of the labyrinth.
"How does one choose a single book among so many?"
Isaac shrugged his shoulders.
'Some like to believe it's the book that chooses the person...destiny, in other words. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
251:Perhaps a feature of the crucified face lurks in every mirror; perhaps the face died, was erased, so that God may be all of us. Who knows but that tonight we may see it in the labyrinth of dreams, and tomorrow not know we saw it. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
252:Caligula’s madness has encircled him so that although he rules an empire as wide as any ever known, he is entrapped within the labyrinth of his own mind. He cannot see beyond the horizons of his own loves and hatreds, his own family, ~ Naomi Alderman,
253:If string theory is right, the microscopic fabric of our universe is a richly intertwined multidimensional labyrinth within which the strings of the universe endlessly twist and vibrate, rhythmically beating out the laws of the cosmos. ~ Brian Greene,
254:It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
255:Jonas had never been able to manage that sort of small conversation. The labyrinthine rules attached to kind words usually left him bemused. And Miss Charingford was so good at it. He could have watched her make people smile for hours. ~ Courtney Milan,
256:The second cause of failure to enact good stems from conflict of intention. High intelligence leads to multiplicity of interest and a sharpened capacity to foresee the consequences of any action. Will is lost in a labyrinth of hypothesis. ~ John Fowles,
257:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome
it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the
present. ~ John Green,
258:Ts'ui Pe must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
259:Before I got here, I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in the back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. ~ John Green,
260:...It makes me cry, I want to talk about something I am not sure I can talk about, I want to talk about the inside from the inside, I do not want to leave it
I am so happy in the silky damp dark of the labyrinth and there is no thread ~ H l ne Cixous,
261:She had wanted to cover up the core of her decisions by hiding facts or watering them down. But she must have been wise enough to realize, no matter her motivations, no matter the labyrinth, every omission left some sign of its presence. ~ Jeff VanderMeer,
262:That sand into which we bury ourselves in order not to see, is formed of words…and it is true that words, their labyrinths, the exhausting immensity of their “possibles”, in short their treachery, have something of quicksand about them. ~ Georges Bataille,
263:You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. - Alaska ~ John Green,
264:I have designed my style pantomimes as white ink drawings on black backgrounds, so that man's destiny appears as a thread lost in an endless labyrinth. I have tried to shed some gleams of light on the shadow of man startled by his anguish. ~ Marcel Marceau,
265:Name me any liquid — except our own blood — that flows more intimately and incessantly through the labyrinth of symbols we have conceived to mark our status as human beings, from the rudest peasant festival to the mystery of the Eucharist. ~ Clifton Fadiman,
266:Were you ever at the cathedral in Chartres? You walk the labyrinth,” he says, “set into the pavement, and it seems there is no sense in it. But if you follow it faithfully it leads you straight to the center. Straight to where you should be. ~ Hilary Mantel,
267:Naïve realism creates a logical labyrinth because it presupposes two things: One, people who are open-minded and fair ought to agree with a reasonable opinion, and, two, any opinion I hold must be reasonable; if it weren’t, I wouldn’t hold it. ~ Carol Tavris,
268:Progress was a labyrinth ... people plunging blindly in and then rushing wildly back, shouting that they had found it ... the invisible king-the élan vital-the principle of evolution ... writing a book, starting a war, founding a school. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
269:we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed OK at the time because we could not see the future. ~ John Green,
270:A studio is an absolute labyrinth of possibilities - this is why records take so long to make because there are millions of permutations of things you can do. The most useful thing you can do is to get rid of some of those options before you start ~ Brian Eno,
271:The Cemetery of Forgotten Books is like the greatest, most fantastic library you could ever imagine. Its a labyrinth of books with tunnels, bridges, arches, secret sections - and its hidden inside an old palace in the old city of Barcelona. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon,
272:Nico was devastatingly alone. He’d lost his big sister Bianca. He’d pushed away all other demigods who’d tried to get close to him. His experiences at Camp Half-Blood, in the Labyrinth and in Tartarus had left him scarred, afraid to trust anyone. ~ Rick Riordan,
273:None can comprehend eternity but the eternal God. Eternity is an ocean, whereof we shall never see the shore; it is a deep, where we can find no bottom; a labyrinth from whence we cannot extricate ourselves and where we shall never lose the door. ~ Thomas Boston,
274:The House Rules Committee is perhaps the free world's outstanding bureaucratic abomination - a tiny, airless closet deep in the labyrinth of the Capitol where some of the very meanest people on earth spend their days cleaning democracy like a fish. ~ Matt Taibbi,
275:When he grew old, Aristotle, who is not generally considered a tightrope dancer, liked to lose himself in the most labyrinthine and subtle of discourses […]. ‘The more solitary and isolated I become, the more I come to like stories,’ he said. ~ Michel de Certeau,
276:Whoever has the desire to pursue philosophy correctly should look to Nature's Archetype in every matter, so that by taking up Ariadne's thread in her intricate labyrinth he may keep himself safe and secure from wrong turns and deviant paths. ~ Athanasius Kircher,
277:Within the bowels of these elements, where we are tortured and remain for ever, The Labyrinth hath no limits, nor is circumscribed in one self place; for where we are is the Labyrinth, and where the Labyrinth is, there must we ever be. Hoo. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
278:Disease Carrying thoughts swarm and multiply in the dark and twisted labyrinths of our minds, and all that is needed is a mob and a good political slogan for the epidemic to be spread once again, with a burst of automatic weapons or a mushroom cloud. ~ Romain Gary,
279:Disease-carrying thoughts swarm and multiply in the dark and twisted labyrinths of our minds, and all that is needed is a mob and a good political slogan for the epidemic to be spread once again, with a burst of automatic weapons or a mushroom cloud. ~ Romain Gary,
280:He was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes ad his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness, 'Damn it,' he sighed. 'How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
281:In the far reaches of the world, under a lost and lonely hill, lies the TOMB OF HORRORS. This labyrinthine crypt is filled with terrible traps, strange and ferocious monsters, rich and magical treasures, and somewhere within rests the evil DemiLich. ~ Ernest Cline,
282:The house was a vast labyrinth of books. Volumes were stacked from floor to ceiling on every wall, dark, crackling, redolent of leather bindings, smooth to the touch, with their gold titles and translucent gilt-edged pages and delicate typography. ~ Isabel Allende,
283:Das Blöde an einem Labyrinth ist, dass man erst am Ende weiß ob der Weg, für den man sich entschieden hat, richtig oder falsch war. Und wenn man am Ende merkt, dass man sich geirrt hat, ist es meistens zu spät. Das ist das Problem bei Labyrinthen. ~ Haruki Murakami,
284:The labyrinth literally reintroduces the experience of walking a clearly defined path. This reminds us that there is a path, a process that brings us to unity, to the center of our beings. In the simple act of walking, the soul finds solace and peace. ~ Lauren Artress,
285:You walk to toward the center (of the labyrinth), towards the source of that order, releasing the chaos of daily life, seeking wisdom and wholeness. On the outward journey you return to the world -- metaphorically -- with the insights gained within. ~ Kristen Heitzmann,
286:Mai had an unholy obsession with eighties fantasy movies. Labyrinth was her favorite. She was madly in lust with David Bowie’s character, Jareth the Goblin King, who was famous for his tight tights, smoldering stares and a very, ahem, generous codpiece. ~ Hailey Edwards,
287:... he was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes and his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness.
"Damn it," he sighed. "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth! ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
288:Things outside you are projections of what’s inside you, and what’s inside you is a projection of what’s outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you’re stepping into the labyrinth inside. Most definitely a risky business. ~ Haruki Murakami,
289:The word 'clue' derives from 'clew', meaning a ball of thread or yarn. It had come to mean 'that which points the way' because of the Greek myth in which Theseus uses a ball of yarn, given to him by Ariadne, to find his way out of the Minotaur's labyrinth. ~ Kate Summerscale,
290:And who over the ruins of his life pursued its fleeting, fluttering significance, while he suffered its seeming meaninglessness and lived its seeming madness, and who hoped in secret at the last turn of the labyrinth of Chaos for revelation and God's presence... ~ Hermann Hesse,
291:It will be easy for us the first time we receive that ball of yarn from Ariadne (love) and then go through all the mazes of the labyrinth (life) and kill the monster. But how many there are who plunge into life (the labyrinth) without taking that precaution? ~ Soren Kierkegaard,
292:Susie had an intense thought and then an effusion. ‘My dear child, we move in a labyrinth.’ ‘Of course we do. That’s just the fun of it!’ said Milly with a strange gaiety. Then she added: ‘Don’t tell me that—in this for instance—there are not abysses. I want abysses. ~ Henry James,
293:He looked down at me without recognition, and I realized with a little stab of anxiety that he must have forgotten all about me, perhaps for some considerable time, and that he himself was so lost in the labyrinth of his own unquiet thoughts that I did not exist. ~ Daphne du Maurier,
294:The whole passage was underlined in bleeding, water-soaked black ink. But there was another ink, this one a crisp blue, post-flood, and an arrow led from “How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast. ~ John Green,
295:Where did parental fear come from, and what were the forces that sustained it? How had a biological imperative become a labyrinth of societal anxieties? How had we managed to take this thing—raising a child—that’s already next to impossible, and make it even fucking harder? ~ Kim Brooks,
296:It's not about life or death, the labyrinth."
"So what is it?"
"Suffering." she said. "Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
297:I could see sunlight making exquisite patterns on the water's surface above me. Everything seemed fascinating and very slow. All around me lionfish darted like golden suns and moons in an alchemists's dream. I looked down to where a vast labyrinth of black seaweed awaited me. ~ Nick Bantock,
298:Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
299:Sometimes you wish you could go back and ask your teachers again to guide you; but up there onstage, exactly where they always wanted you to be, you must simply find your way. They have given all the help they can; the only person who can solve the labyrinth of yourself is you. ~ Jeremy Denk,
300:The cross is the crux, the crossroads, the twisted knot at the center of reality, to which all previous history leads and from which all subsequent history flows. By it we know all reality is cruciform—the love of God, the shape of creation, the labyrinth of human history. ~ Peter J Leithart,
301:Oh, why had the Labyrinth brought me here?

As soon as I thought this, I chided myself: Of course it would bring me where I least wanted to be. Austin had been wrong about the maze. It was still evil, designed to kill. It was just a little subtler about its homicides now. ~ Rick Riordan,
302:He enters a labyrinth, he multiplies by a thousand the dangers already inherent in the very act of living, not the least of which is the fact that no one with eyes will see how and where he gets lost and lonely and is torn limb from limb by some cave-Minotaur of conscience. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
303:It was the Steppenwolf. And who over the ruins of his life pursued its fleeting, fluttering significance, while he suffered its seeming meaninglessness and lived its seeming madness, and who hoped in secret at the last turn of the labyrinth of Chaos for revelation and God's presence? ~ Anonymous,
304:The difficulty in dealing with a maze or labyrinth lies not so much in navigating the convolutions to find the exit but in not entering the damn thing in the first place.

Or, at least not yet again.

As a creature of free will, do not be tempted into futility. ~ Vera Nazarian,
305:Factual information alone isn't sufficient to guide you through life's labyrinthine tests. You need and deserve regular deliveries of uncanny revelation. One of your inalienable rights as a human being should therefore be to receive a mysteriously useful omen every day of your life. ~ Rob Brezsny,
306:Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
307:I have traveled down this path before - 'List of Seven' and 'Twin Peaks' both have thematic similarities - but 'Paladin' took me much deeper into the intuitive underground. Always bearing in mind Joseph Campbell's Rule No. 1: When entering a labyrinth, don't forget your ball of twine. ~ Mark Frost,
308:It was almost as if LSD provided the human consciousness with access to a kind of infinite subway system, a labyrinth of tunnels and byways that existed in the subterranean reaches of the unconscious, and one that literally connected everything in the universe with everything else. ~ Michael Talbot,
309:Libraries, whether my own or shared with a greater reading public, have always seemed to me pleasantly mad places, and for as long as I can remember I've been seduced by their labyrinthine logic, which suggests that reason (if not art) rules over a cacophonous arrangement of books. ~ Alberto Manguel,
310:The most intelligent men, like the strongest, find their happiness where others would find only disaster: in the labyrinth, in being hard with themselves and with others, in effort; their delight is self-mastery; in them asceticism becomes second nature, a necessity, as instinct. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
311:The labyrinth, after all, is Sarah's creation. She calls upon the Goblin King. And this is the biggest difference between my brother's afflictions and mine: whatever the biological and historical factors, I still chose mine.... Like her, there was only one person I needed to save: myself. ~ Melissa Febos,
312:If she lived, doubtless we must have been sometimes in search of each other, at the very same moment, through the mighty labyrinths of London; perhaps, even within a few feet of each other - a barrier no wider in a London street, often amounting in the end to a separation for eternity! ~ Thomas de Quincey,
313:The Florida peninsula is, in fact, an emerging plateau, honeycombed with voids and vents, caves and underground waterways. Travelers on Interstate Highway I-75 have no idea that, beneath them, are cave labyrinths still being mapped by speleologists - 'cavers,' they prefer to be called. ~ Randy Wayne White,
314:An hour later they were being escorted down a long corridor at the Pentagon. In fact, every corridor at the Pentagon was long. It was a labyrinth beyond all labyrinths. Indeed, it was rumored that employees from the 1960s were somewhere in the bowels of the place still looking for an exit. ~ David Baldacci,
315:Esther liked books out where everyone could see them, a sort of graphic index to the intricate labyrinth of her mind arrayed to impress the most casual guest, a system of immediate introduction which she had found to obtain in a number of grimy intellectual households in Greenwich Village. ~ William Gaddis,
316:she said, "It's not life or death, the labyrinth."
"Um, Okay. So what is it?"
"Suffering" She said. "Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolívar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering? ~ John Green,
317:Kafka’s purgatorial vision of a bureaucratic labyrinth without end chimes with Žižek’s claim that the Soviet system was an ‘empire of signs’, in which even the Nomenklatura themselves –including Stalin and Molotov – were engaged in interpreting a complex series of social semiotic signals. No-one ~ Mark Fisher,
318:The whole place is soaking wet. My copy of The General in His Labyrinth is absolutely ruined."
"That's pretty good," the Colonel said, like an artist admiring another's work.
"Hey!" she shouted.
"Sorry. Don't worry, dude," he said. "God will punish the wicked. And before He does, we will. ~ John Green,
319:Schopenhauer’s Will-to-live, commendable as it may seem as a hypothesis, is too overwrought in the proving to be anything more than another intellectual labyrinth for specialists in perplexity. Comparatively, Zapffe’s principles are non-technical and could never arouse the passion of professors ~ Thomas Ligotti,
320:Wir tappen im Labyrinth unsers Lebenswandels und im Dunkel unserer Forschungen umher: helleAugenblicke erleuchten dabei wie Blitze unsernWeg. We grope about in the labyrinth of our life and in the obscurity of our investigations; bright moments illuminate our path like flashes of lightning. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer,
321:I could try to pretend that I didn't care anymore, but it could never be true again. You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because no I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice. You left me Perhapsless, stuck in your goddamned labyrinth. ~ John Green,
322:a real danger by giving it an absurd name, the designations were often facetious: the Godel Gremlin, the Mandelbrot Maze, the Combinatorial Catastrophe, the Transfinite Trap, the Conway Conundrum, the Turing Torpedo, the Lorenz Labyrinth, the Boolean Bomb, the Shannon Snare, the Cantor Cataclysm… ~ Arthur C Clarke,
323:I could try to pretend that I didn't care anymore, but it could never be true again. You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because now I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice. You left me Perhapsless, stuck in your goddamned labyrinth. ~ John Green,
324:I suppose every poet has his own private mythology. Maybe he's unaware of it. People tell me that I have evolved a private mythology of tigers, of blades, of labyrinths, and I"m unaware of the fact this is so. My readers are finding it all the time. But I think perhaps that is the duty of poet. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
325:Personally I wasn’t one but surprised to walk into that theater and see Jo O’Connor’s ghost. I knew as soon as I put my hand on the door handle that something funny was going on. I got all sort of lightheaded.”
Probably the blood trying to find its way through the labyrinth of your brain. ~ Cameron Dokey,
326:She mulled how very Jonathan of him to effortlessly find his way to her when she needed him, labyrinth or no. Just as he'd effortlessly uncovered her secrets. But that was simply because he'd been born knowing the secret to her. He was hers and she was his. Just as there was one key for every lock ~ Julie Anne Long,
327:Thoroughly to unfold the labyrinths of the human mind is an arduous task.... In order to dive into those recesses and lay them open to the reader in a striking and intelligible manner, 'tis necessary to assume a certain freedom in writing, not strictly perhaps within the limits prescribed by rules. ~ Sarah Fielding,
328:Where there have been powerful governments, societies, religions, public opinions, in short wherever there has been tyranny, there the solitary philosopher has been hated; for philosophy offers an asylum to a man into which no tyranny can force it way, the inward cave, the labyrinth of the heart. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
329:He did not know what to say in the face of such sorrow. He sat in silence by his sister's side in the spring verdure, which was too young; and the hidden strings in his breast began to quiver; and to sound.
This was the first time that he had ever looked into the labyrinth of the human soul. ~ Halld r Kiljan Laxness,
330:Let us consider two important factors, the two poles of the creation of art: the artist on one hand, and on the other the spectator who later becomes the posterity; to all appearances the artist acts like a mediumistic being who, from the labyrinth beyond time and space, seeks his way out to a clearing ~ Marcel Duchamp,
331:When Max Planck was awarded the Nobel Prize for his discovery of quantum theory, he said, “Looking back over the long and labyrinthine path which finally led to the discovery, I am vividly reminded of Goethe’s saying that men will always be making mistakes as long as they are striving after something. ~ Brennan Manning,
332:But as of late, I have been consumed with the significant task of revising the latest edition of my Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, while alternately putting the finishing touches on my four volumes of The Whole Art of Detection. The latter is a rather tedious, labyrinthine undertaking... ~ Mitch Cullin,
333:The life of Dumas is not only a monument of endeavour and success, it is a sort of labyrinth as well. It abounds in pseudonyms and disguises, in sudden and unexpected appearances and retreats as unexpected and sudden, in scandals and in rumours, in mysteries and traps and ambuscades of every kind. ~ William Ernest Henley,
334:I thought for a long time that they way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life accompanied only by the last words of the already-dead. ~ John Green,
335:The average sendentary man of our time who is at all suggestible must emerge from this chapter believing that his chances of surviving a combination of instinct, complexes, reflexes, glands, sex, and present-day traffic conditions are about equal to those of a one-legged man trying to get out of a labyrinth. ~ James Thurber,
336:Today, when we look at a brain, we see an intricate network of billions of neurons in constant, crackling communication, a chemical labyrinth that senses the world outside and within, produces love and sorrow, keeps our hearts beating and lungs breathing, composes our thoughts, and constructs our consciousness. ~ Carl Zimmer,
337:The labyrinth of emotions that I didn’t want to feel, experience, or face—fear, anger, and unbearable loss—enveloped me. I reached out in desperation like a helpless baby who needed her mommy. Hold me. Comfort me. Tell me that everything will be fine. Where are you? By the time the oceans of deep sorrow moved ~ Paulette Mahurin,
338:The poet Marianne Moore famously wrote of 'real toads in imaginary gardens,' and the labyrinth offers us the possibility of being real creatures in symbolic space...In such spaces as the labyrinth we cross over [between real and imaginary spaces]; we are really travelling, even if the destination is only symbolic. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
339:They wound their way through a labyrinth of streets, partly following their noses, partly the orientation of the map. Jardines, Mirasol, Cruz, Puentezuelas, Capuchinas...
Each word held its magic. They were like brushstrokes painting the landscape of the city, each one helping to build up a picture of the whole. ~ Victoria Hislop,
340:Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.”
― John Green, Looking for Alaska ~ John Green,
341:The female heart is a labyrinth of subtleties, too challenging for the uncouth mind of the male racketeer. If you really want to possess a woman, you must think like her, and the first thing to do is to win over her soul. The rest, that sweet, soft wrapping that steals away your senses and your virtue, is a bonus. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
342:Art for art's sake? I should think so, and more so than ever at the present time. It is the one orderly product which our middling race has produced. It is the cry of a thousand sentinels, the echo from a thousand labyrinths, it is the lighthouse which cannot be hidden. It is the best evidence we can have of our dignity. ~ E M Forster,
343:I feel anxious for the fate of our monarchy, or democracy, or whatever is to take place. I soon get lost in a labyrinth of perplexities; but, whatever occurs, may justice and righteousness be the stability of our times, and order arise out of confusion. Great difficulties may be surmounted by patience and perseverance. ~ Abigail Adams,
344:He wanted to journey through dark labyrinths and wrestle with the strangeness that lurked within; he wanted to crack open piety and expose hypocrisy; he wanted to break taboos and squeeze wisdom from their bloody hearts; he wanted to achieve a state of amoral grace, and be baptized backwards into ignorance and simplicity. ~ J K Rowling,
345:London' is a gallery of sensation of impressions. It is a history of London in a thematic rather than a chronological sense with chapters of the history of smells, the history of silence, and the history of light. I have described the book as a labyrinth, and in that sense in complements my description of London itself. ~ Peter Ackroyd,
346:This book is a chronicle of how my family came to be where we are and what we learned along the way as well as a map to guide you on your own journey. I’ll even tell you the moral of the story upfront (the proverbial string tied to the gate of the labyrinth): You have more control over the food you eat than you think. ~ J Natalie Winch,
347:What is the nature of being a person? What is the best way to go about being a person? How did we come to be and what will become of us when we are no longer? In short: what are the rules of this game and how might we best play it?"
The nature of the labyrinth, I scribbled into my spiral notebook, and the way out of it. ~ John Green,
348:A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
349:Who hasn’t succumbed to a hopeless feeling more powerful than all the strength one might possibly muster, wondering how many first steps will have to be taken, how many actions performed and words spoken, how many labyrinths will have to be negotiated in order, finally, to reach the moment at which reality begins to happen. ~ C sar Aira,
350:Yet I feel like Theseus running madly through the coils of the labyrinth with horrors following at my heels and every twist bringing a new and dreaded sight. I dream and it pursues me I am sunk so far in horror heaped upon horror that I cannot taste wine or see the sun above. The world has ended and I don't know why I yet Live ~ Jo Graham,
351:Novelist Victor Hugo believed, "He who every morning plans the transactions of the day and follows out that plan carries a thread that will guide him through the labyrinth of the most busy life . . . But where no plan is laid, where the disposal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of incident, chaos will soon reign. ~ John C Maxwell,
352:Now, as far as I knew, he (Luke) was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while the chopped-up Lord Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods. In demigod-speak, we call this a “problem.” - Percy, 'The Battle of the Labyrinth ~ Rick Riordan,
353:Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
354:Love is the means of entry and our guide. Love keeps us on the labyrinthine path. If we can honor love as it presents itself, taking shapes and directions we would never have predicted or desired, then we are on the way toward discovering the lower levels of soul, where meaning and value reveal themselves slowly and paradoxically. ~ Thomas Moore,
355:We should consider that the brightness of the Divine countenance, which even an apostle declares to be inaccessible, (1Ti 6: 16) is a kind of labyrinth — a labyrinth to us inextricable, if the Word do not serve us as a thread to guide our path; and that it is better to limp in the way, than run with the greatest swiftness out of it. ~ John Calvin,
356:I am here. I am in the present tense. I'm not always here, and sometimes here is a very difficult place. Sometimes it is a labyrinth, or a Minotaur, or a rope I can neither let go of nor follow. It's hard to find the right words, but I guess I would say that it's something like feeling the floor. And that it is my privilege to feel it. ~ Meg Howrey,
357:Now, as far as I knew, he (Luke) was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while the chopped-up Lord Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods. In demigod-speak, we call this a “problem.”

- Percy, 'The Battle of the Labyrinth ~ Rick Riordan,
358:This has happened and will happen again,' said Euphorbus. 'You are not lighting a pyre, you are lighting a labyrinth of flames. If all the fires I have seen were gathered together here, they would not fit on earth and the angels would be blinded. I have said this many times.' Then he cried out, because the flames had reached him. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
359:But come back in November or December, in February or March, when the fog, la nebbia, settles upon the city like a marvelous monster, and you will have little trouble believing that things can appear and disappear in this labyrinthine city, or that time here could easily slip in its sprockets and take you, willingly or unwillingly, back. ~ Erica Jong,
360:The Universe is a quantum computer, and over time, it is simply more likely that structure comes out of it than noise. That means rules, patterns. That means a game. But spend long enough poking at it, and you start to see the game engine, the labyrinth of the quantum circuit, wires looping around each other, forwards and backwards. ~ Hannu Rajaniemi,
361:The person who distrusts himself has no touchstone for reality - for this touchstone can be only oneself. Such a person interpose between himself and reality nothing less than a labyrinth of attitudes. And these attitudes, furthermore, though the person is usually unaware of it (is unaware of so much), are historical and public attitudes. ~ James Baldwin,
362:Something bad happened to me, didn’t it?” Worse than the captivity, worse than the torture after she created the labyrinth. Kaleb knew he’d made a major tactical error. But he’d promised Sahara he’d never lie to her, so he said, “Yes,” and waited. “I’m not ready yet.” Her hand fell to his shoulder. “Not strong enough yet. But I will be soon. ~ Nalini Singh,
363:Chelsea's not near here," I said. "Do whatever hoodoo you need to do to know if Raj is nearby."

"Hoodoo"? said Tybalt, sounding amused. "I'm the King of Cats, October, not the King of Goblins."

"And you don't live in a labyrinth, but that doesn't mean you can't make like a Henson character and start scrying for our missing boy. ~ Seanan McGuire,
364:Trevor climbed once again to the land of the living, naked except for an antique gas mask strapped to his face. As he peered through glass eyes like a mutant fly and breathed through the alien snoot, a single thought coiled through the booby-trapped labyrinth of his brain:
I need to be alone.
I need to be alone.
I need to be alone. ~ Jake Vander Ark,
365:we know the way; we got our knowledge of it from thousands of years in the labyrinth. Who else has found it?—The man of today?—“I don’t know either the way out or the way in; I am whatever doesn’t know either the way out or the way in”—so sighs the man of today… . This is the sort of modernity that made us ill,—we sickened on lazy peace ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
366:Photography is a great adventure in thinking and looking, a wonderful magic toy that miraculously manages to combine our adult awareness with the fairy-tale world of childhood, a never-ending journey through great and small, through variations and the realm of illusions and appearances, a labyrinthine and specular place of multitudes and simulation. ~ Luigi Ghirri,
367:The figure in these two phases haunted the lawyer all night: and if at any time he dozed over, it was but to see it glide more stealthily through sleeping houses, or move the more swiftly and still the more swiftly, even to dizziness, through wider labyrinths of lamp-lighted city, and at every street corner crush a child and leave her screaming. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
368:Who read by night above the Rhine the cloudscript of the drifting mists? It was the Steppenwolf. And who over the ruins of his life pursued its fleeting, fluttering significance, while he suffered its seeming meaninglessness and lived its seeming madness, and who hoped in secret at the last turn of the labyrinth of Chaos for revelation and God's presence? ~ Hermann Hesse,
369:We must resign ourselves to the fact that the only way in which we can find the clue to the mystery of the rays, systems, and hierarchies, lies in the study of the law of correspondences or analogy. It is the one thread by which we can find our way through the labyrinth, and the one ray of light that shines through the darkness of the surrounding ignorance. ~ Alice A Bailey,
370:...I want to tell you again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
371:Private courts, Gloomy as coffins, and unsightly lanes Thrilled by some female vendor's scream, belike The very shrillest of all London cries, May then entangle our impatient steps; Conducted through those labyrinths, unawares, To privileged regions and inviolate, Where from their airy lodges studious lawyers Look out on waters, walks, and gardens green. ~ William Wordsworth,
372:To be honest, and all the external influences aside, there are some parts of this that I remember in great, terrible detail, so much so I fear getting lost in the labyrinth of memory. There are other parts of this that remain as unclear and unknowable as someone else’s mind, and I fear that in my head I’ve likely conflated and compressed timelines and events. ~ Paul Tremblay,
373:Alex thrust her hand and half her arm into the labyrinth of light.
Her stare blanked, and in the halo of the matrix her eyes and glyphs blazed so radiantly she looked as if she were being consumed by a primordial fire.

“She just stuck her hand into Machim Command’s central server matrix!”

Caleb smiled, watching on in blatant awe. “She does that. ~ G S Jennsen,
374:In the city, human beings celebrated and enjoyed material conditions and comforts, but were caught in the labyrinths and knots of spiritual shallowness and psychological confusion. In the city human beings wrestled with the demands of survival and profit but fled from life’s imperatives of honesty and moderation. In the city man was afraid to confront his own face. ~ Isa Kamari,
375:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
376:We know that modern art tends to realise these conditions: in this sense it becomes a veritable theatre of metamorphoses and permutations. A theatre where nothing is fixed, a labyrinth without a thread (Ariadne has hung herself). The work of art leaves the domain of representation in order to become 'experience', transcendental empiricism or science of the sensible. ~ Anonymous,
377:I'm not gonna be one of those people who talk about what they're gonna do. I'm just gonna do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in a labyrinth thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it'll be and imagining that future keeps you going but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
378:O world, world when I was younger I thought there was some order governing you and your deeds. But now you seem to be a labyrinth of errors, a frightful desert, a den of wild beasts, a game in which men move in circles…a stony field, a meadow full of serpents, a flowering but barren orchard, a spring of cares, a river of tears, a sea of suffering, a vain hope. ~ Fernando de Rojas,
379:We disliked the rigours of existence, the unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the world, the labyrinths of love, the ignorance of parents, the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference of the Living in the midst of the simple beauties of the universe. We feared the heartlessness of human beings, all of whom are born blind, few of whom ever learn to see. ~ Ben Okri,
380:There are two famous labyrinths where our reason very often goes astray. One concerns the great question of the free and the necessary, above all in the production and the origin of Evil. The other consists in the discussion of continuity, and of the indivisibles which appear to be the elements thereof, and where the consideration of the infinite must enter in. ~ Gottfried Leibniz,
381:Neither this body am I, nor soul, Nor these fleeting images passing by, Nor concepts and thoughts, mental images, Nor yet sentiments and the psyche's labyrinth. Who then am I? A consciousness without origin, Not born in time, nor begotten here below. I am that which was, is and ever shall be, A jewel in the crown of the Divine Self, A star in the firmament of the luminous One. ~ Rumi,
382:Shortly, she passed what she assumed was the center: a wide expanse of lawn, a white garden bench at each end, and a circular pond enlivened with water lilies and irises. Just like the rest of Aubry Park, at least what she had seen of it, the center of the labyrinth was a charming surprise. A place where she might be inclined to sit and read under other circumstances. ~ Olivia Parker,
383:and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die. ~ Franz Kafka,
384:An invisible border arose between the parts of the house occupied by Esteban Trueba and those occupied by his wife. In response to Clara's imagination and the requirements of the moment, the noble, seigniorial architecture began sprouting all sorts of extra little rooms, staircases, turrets, and terraces...the big house on the corner soon came to resemble a labyrinth. ~ Isabel Allende,
385:. . . The senses reign, and reason now is dead;
from one pleasing desire comes another.
Virtue, honor, beauty, gracious bearing,
sweet words have caught me in her lovely branches
in which my heart is tenderly entangled.
In thirteen twenty-seven, and precisely
at the first hour of the sixth of April
I entered the labyrinth, and I see no way out. ~ Francesco Petrarca,
386:I never knew whether his speedy speech patterns reflected amphetamine use or an amphetamine mind. He would often lead me up blind alleys or through an endless labyrinth of incomprehensible logic. I felt like Alice with the Mad Hatter, negotiating jokes without punch lines, and having to retrace my steps on the chessboard floor back to the logic of my own peculiar universe. ~ Patti Smith,
387:There are still times when he and I fall into our respective labyrinths. I no longer believe that anyone but ourselves can lead us out. The Minotaurs we need to rescue are never our half brothers. They are always those monstrous parts of ourselves. We can never even know for certain that we are free. The best we can offer each other, and ourselves, is a few honest words. ~ Melissa Febos,
388:Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
389:The origin of illness may be in the past, but the virulent crisis must be dynamically tackled. I believe in attacking the core of the illness, through its present symptoms, quickly, directly. The past is a labyrinth. One does not have to step into it and move step by step through every turn and twist. The past reveals itself instantly, in today’s fever or abscess of the soul. ~ Ana s Nin,
390:The universe cannot be read until we have learnt the language and become familiar with the characters in which it is written. It is written in mathematical language, and the letters are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without which means it is humanly impossible to comprehend a single word. Without these, one is wandering about in a dark labyrinth. This ~ Marcus du Sautoy,
391:He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. ~ John Green,
392:Words are substance strange. Speak one and the air ripples into another's ears. Write one and the eye laps it up. But the sense transmutes, and the spoken word winds through the ear's labyrinth into a sense that is no longer the nerve's realm. The written word unfolds behind the eye into the world, world's image, and the imagination sees as the eye cannot see-thoughtfully. ~ Dan Beachy Quick,
393:And then his true courtship of her had its beginning; and to the worship of his body, he joined the fairest garlands from the treasure-house of his mind, and made a bower for her.

Adored; caressed into delight; conducted by delicate paths into ravishing labyrinths where pleasure, like carillons on glass, played upon pleasure, she leaned on his voice, and sometimes answered it. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
394:I'm not going to be one of those people who sits around talking about what they're gonna do. I'm just going to do it. Imagining the future is kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. YOu just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
395:Twelve mothers and twelve fathers were stacked into the long, thin house, each with four children, drawing the old cobalt-and-silver curtains down the center of rooms to make labyrinths of twelve dining rooms, twelve stting rooms, twelve bedrooms. It could be said, and was, that Marya Morevna had twelve mothers and twelve fathers, and so did all the children of that long, thin house. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
396:You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because now I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice. You left me Perhapsless, stuck in your goddamned labyrinth. And now I don't even know if you chose the straight and fast way out, if you left me like this on purpose. And so I never knew you, did I? I can't remember, because I never knew. ~ John Green,
397:To walk the same route again can mean to think the same thoughts again, as though thoughts and ideas were indeed fixed objects in a landscape one need only know how to travel through. In this way, walking is reading, even when both the walking and reading are imaginary, and the landscape of the memory becomes a text as stable as that to be found in the garden, the labyrinth, or the stations. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
398:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth.there were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day.Things that did not go right;things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future.If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless... ~ John Green,
399:Before I got here, I thought that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it didn't exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in the back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life accompanied by the last words of the already dead, so I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life. ~ John Green,
400:I follow the path we’ve taken so many times this summer – across the front, down the street, cut back through a neighbor’s yard, down the stairs to the beach, past the pier, through the campfire labyrinth, up to the deck of the Shack, and straight into Sam’s arms.
Without speaking, he kisses me hard on the mouth and I kiss him back, sobbing and crumpling into his chest like a broken puppet. ~ Sarah Ockler,
401:All the objects—organic and inorganic alike—were totally beyond description or even comprehension. Gilman sometimes compared the inorganic masses to prisms, labyrinths, clusters of cubes and planes, and Cyclopean buildings; and the organic things struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindoo idols, and intricate Arabesques roused into a kind of ophidian animation. ~ H P Lovecraft,
402:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
403:we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
404:History is a living horse laughing at a wooden horse. History is a wind blowing where it listeth. History is no sure thing to bet on. History is a box of tricks with a lost key. History is a labyrinth of doors with sliding panels, a book of ciphers with the code in a cave of the Saragossa sea. History says, if it pleases, Excuse me, I beg your pardon, it will never happen again if I can help it. ~ Carl Sandburg,
405:Those who every morning plan the transactions of the day and follow out that plan carry a thread that will guide them through the labyrinth of the most busy life. The orderly arrangement of their time is like a ray of light which darts itself through all their occupations. But where no plan is laid, where the disposal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of incidents, chaos will soon reign. ~ Victor Hugo,
406:We had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at that time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
407:we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right. Things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better, until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
408:we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless. a ~ John Green,
409:that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
410:Jesus, I’m not going to be one of those people who sits around talking about what they’re gonna do. I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. ... You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present ~ John Green,
411:Poor idiot! Are you so foolish as to believe we will openly teach you the greatest and most important of secrets? I assure you that anyone who attempts to study, according to the ordinary and literal sense of their words, what the Hermetic Philosophers write, will soon find himself in the twists of a labyrinth from which he will be unable to escape, having no Ariadne’s thread to lead him out. —Artephius ~ Umberto Eco,
412:He reached for her hand and caught it—lightly—and held it. It was small, smooth, and very real. Up in the citadel, Sarai gasped. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers. A blaze of connection—or collision , as though they had long been wandering in the same labyrinth and had finally rounded the corner that would bring them face-to-face. It was a feeling of being lost and alone and then suddenly neither. ~ Laini Taylor,
413:The welfare state that is built upon this conception seems to prove precisely away from the conservative conception of authoritative and personal government, towards a labyrinthine privilege sodden structure of anonymous power, structuring a citizenship that is increasingly reluctant to answer for itself, increasingly parasitic on the dispensations of a bureaucracy towards which it can feel no gratitude. ~ Roger Scruton,
414:The most radical new element that comes to the fore in hypertext is the system of multidirectional and often labyrinthine linkages we are invited or obliged to create. Indeed the creative imagination often becomes more preoccupied with linkage, routing and mapping than with statement or style, or with what we would call character or plot (two traditional narrative elements that are decidedly in jeopardy). ~ Robert Coover,
415:Jesus, I'm not going to be one of
those people who sits around talking about what they're gonna do. I'm just going to do it. Imagining the future is
a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the
present. ~ John Green,
416:With films—as with novels, which I devoured with the regularity of a metronome—I gave myself no limits: I fell into every trap the author or director set for me, lost myself with relish in the labyrinths of a fictitious world. I think of that friend of Mary Poppins, the chimney sweep, and the amazing chalk pictures he drew: you could jump into them and become reincarnated. I dreamed of meeting him. ~ Jean Philippe Blondel,
417:Still, though, I can't be sure if the zoo as I recall it was really like that. How can I put it? I sometimes feel that it's too vivid, if you know what I mean. And when I start having thoughts like this, the more I think about it, the less I can tell how much of the vividness is real and how much of it my imagination has invented. I feel as if I've wandered into a labyrinth. Has that ever happened to you? ~ Haruki Murakami,
418:Here were two people who had penetrated farther than she into the labyrinth of the wedded state, and struggled through some of its thorniest passages; and yet both, one consciously, the other half-unaware, testified to the mysterious fact which was already dawning on her: that the influence of a marriage begun in mutual understanding is too deep not to reassert itself even in the moment of flight and denial. ~ Edith Wharton,
419:The most intelligent men, like the strongest, find their happiness where others would find only disaster: in the labyrinth, in being hard with themselves and with others, in effort; their delight is in self-mastery; in them asceticism becomes second nature, a necessity, an instinct. They regard a difficult task as a privilege; it is to them a recreation to play with burdens that would crush all others. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
420:Then she told George that the story of the minotaur was one about facing what mazes you. She made it very clear that she was using the word maze, not amaze. Then, when you’d faced it, she said, the thing to do to get out of the labyrinth was to go back the way you’d come, follow your own thread, the thread you’d left behind you, and that this had a lot to do with knowing where we come from and what our roots are – ~ Ali Smith,
421:Before I got here, I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life accompanied only by the last words of the already-dead, so I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life. ~ John Green,
422:Haplo: ‘single, alone.’ That is your name and your destiny,” said his father, his finger rough and hard on Haplo’s chest. “Your mother and I have defeated the odds thrown for us already. Every Gate we pass from now on is a wink at fate. But the time will come when the Labyrinth will claim us, as it claims all except the lucky and the strong. And the lucky and the strong are generally the lonely. Repeat your name. ~ Margaret Weis,
423:Jesus, I’m not going to be one of those people who sits around talking about what they’re gonna do. I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” “Huh?” I asked. “You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ Anonymous,
424:There's a great maze of tunnels, a Labyrinth. It's like a great dark city, under the hill. Full of gold, and the swords of old heroes, and old crowns, and bones, and years, and silence.'
She spoke if in trance, rapture. Manan watched her. His slabby face never expressed much but stolid, careful sadness; it was sadder than usual now. 'Well, and you're mistress of all that,' he said. 'The silence, and the dark. ~ Ursula K Le Guin,
425:Asuna imagined the light that made up their souls trading infinite information. She knew for certain that no matter what world, no matter how long they traveled, their hearts would never be apart. In fact, their hearts had been connected long ago. Since the moment they disappeared in a rainbow aurora above the collapse of Aincrad, or perhaps even before that - as lonely solo players who met deep in a dark labyrinth. ~ Reki Kawahara,
426:How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" In reality, "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" were probably not Simon Bolivar's last words (although he did, historically, say them). His last words may have been "Jose! Bring the luggage. They do not want us here." The significant source for "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" is also Alaska's source, Gabriel Garcia Marquez's The General in his Labyrinth. ~ John Green,
427:Venice is ever the fragile labyrinth at the edge of the sea and it reminds us how brief and perilous the journeys of our lives are; perhaps that is why we love it so. City of plagues and brief liaisons, city of lingering deaths and incendiary loves, city of chimeras, nightmares, pigeons, bells. You are the only city in the world whose dialect has a word for the shimmer of canal water reflected on the ceiling of a room. ~ Erica Jong,
428:My peak? Would I even have one? I hardly had had anything you could call a life. A few ripples, some rises and falls. But that's it. Almost nothing. Nothing born of nothing. I'd loved and been loved, but I had nothing to show. It was a singularly plain, featureless landscape. I felt like I was in a video game. A surrogate Pacman, crunching blindly through a labyrinth of dotted lines. The only certainty was my death. ~ Haruki Murakami,
429:My peak? Would I even have one? I hardly had had anything you could call a life. A few ripples. some rises and falls. But that's it. Almost nothing. Nothing born of nothing. I'd loved and been loved, but I had nothing to show. It was a singularly plain, featureless landscape. I felt like I was in a video game. A surrogate Pacman, crunching blindly through a labyrinth of dotted lines. The only certainty was my death. ~ Haruki Murakami,
430:The encounter with Campbell was, for me and many other people, a life-changing experience. A few days of exploring the labyrinth of his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces produced an electrifying reorganization of my life and thinking. Here, fully explored, was the pattern I had been sensing. Campbell had broken the secret code of story. His work was like a flare suddenly illuminating a deeply shadowed landscape ~ Christopher Vogler,
431:Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture, let me learn just everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin! ~ Salvador Dal,
432:Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture, let me learn just everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin! ~ Salvador Dali,
433:List of Artists Who Created Fantasy Worlds to Try and Cure Bouts of Sadness

1. Italo Calvino
2. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
3. Jim Henson and Jorge Luis Borges - Labyrinths
4. The creator of MySpace
5. Richard Brautigan
6. J.K. Rowling
7. The inventor of the children's toy Lite-Brite
8. Ann Sexton
9. David Foster Wallace
10. Gaugin and the Caribbean
11. Charles Schulz
12. Liam Rector ~ Shane Jones,
434:Jesus, I’m not going to be one of those people who sits around talking about what they’re gonna do. I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. ~ John Green,
435:Is New York such a labyrinth? I thought it so straight up and down—like Fifth Avenue. And with all the cross streets numbered!” She seemed to guess his faint disapproval of this, and added, with the rare smile that enchanted her whole face: “If you knew how I like it for just that—the straight-up-and-downness, and the big honest labels on everything!”
He saw his chance. “Everything may be labelled—but everybody is not. ~ Edith Wharton,
436:I love actors. I enjoy their company, and I get excited each and every time they bring a character I've written to life. Every so often a talented actor doesn't hook in correctly to a character; or someone gets lost in a labyrinth of over-complicated thoughts, and the character and play suffer. However, most of the time I find actors either end up doing exactly what was in my head, or sometimes do something even better. ~ Christopher Durang,
437:I realized that I really, almost by accident, had fallen into a labyrinthine, very powerful paradigm for dealing with these things through genre films. And once I realized that and realized the power of it, and the fact that because horror films aren't, in general, studio products - studios back them sometimes, but they don't try to meddle too much, because they kind of don't want to sully their skirts - you have a lot of freedom. ~ Wes Craven,
438:〔〔 〕〕 Shutting-down your identity requires a voyage out to K-space interzone. Zootic affectivity flatlines across a smooth cata-tension plateau and into simulated subversions of the near future, scorched vivid green by alien sex and war. You are drawn into the dripping depths of the net, where dynamic-ice security forces and K-guerillas stalk each other through labyrinthine erogenous zones, tangled in diseased elaborations of desire. ~ Nick Land,
439:We also write to heighten our own awareness of life... We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection... We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it...to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely... When I don't write, I feel my world shrinking... I feel I lose my fire and my color. ~ Anais Nin,
440:Fats was starting to think that if you flipped every bit of received wisdom on its head you would have the truth. He wanted to journey through dark labyrinths and wrestle with the strangeness that lurked within; he wanted to crack open piety and expose hypocrisy; he wanted to break taboos and squeeze wisdom from their bloody hearts; he wanted to achieve a state of amoral grace, and be baptised backwards into ignorance and simplicity. ~ J K Rowling,
441:He—that's Simon Bolivar—was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes and his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness. Damn it," he sighed. "'How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!'

"So what's the labyrinth?" I asked her.

"That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape—the world or the end of it? ~ John Green,
442:Yup, you're in a strange position, all right. You're in love with a girl who is no more, jealous of a boy who's gone forever. Even so, this emotion you're feeling is more real, and more intensely painful, than anything you've ever felt before. And there's no way out. No possibility of finding an exit. You've wandered into a labyrinth of time, and the biggest problem of all is that you have no desire at all to get out. Am I right? ~ Haruki Murakami,
443:The nature of the labyrinth, I scribbled into my spiral notebook, and the way out of it. This teacher rocked. I hated discussion classes. I hated talking, and I hated listening to everyone else stumble on their words and try to phrase things in the vaguest possible way so they wouldn't sound dumb, and I hated how it was all just a game of trying to figure out what the teacher wanted to hear and then saying it. I'm in class, so teach me. ~ John Green,
444:All of my works are steps on my journey, a struggle for truth that I have waged with pen, canvas, and materials. Overhead is a distant, radiant star, and the more I stretch to reach it, the further it recedes. But by the power of my spirit and my single-hearted pursuit of the path, I have clawed my way through the labyrinthine confusion of the world of people in an unstinting effort to approach even one step closer to the realm of the soul. ~ Yayoi Kusama,
445:... Such a scribe
you pay and praise for putting life in stones,
Fire into fog, making the past your world.
There's plenty of 'How did you contrive to grasp
The thread which led you through this labyrinth?
How build such solid fabric out of air?
How on so slight foundation found this tale,
Biography, narrative?' or, in other words,
How many lies did it require to make
The portly truth you here present us with? ~ Robert Browning,
446:How unwise had the wanderers been, who had deserted its shelter, entangled themselves in the web of society, and entered on what men of the world called "life," - that labyrinth of evil, that scheme of mutual torture. To live, according to this sense of the word, we must not only observe and learn, we must also feel; we must not only be mere spectators of action, we must act; we must not describe, but be subjects of description. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,
447:A smile played around Aomame's straight lips. People were focused on her actions. No one was surprised to see her pull a gun out of her bag-- or at least they did not show surprise on their faces. Maybe they didn't believe it was a real gun. 'It is, though,' Aomame told them mentally. Next she turned the gun upward and thrust the muzzle into her mouth. Now it was aimed directly at her cerebrum-- the gray labyrinth where consciousness resided. ~ Haruki Murakami,
448:that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
449:that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we have to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless. ~ John Green,
450:We are all each of us riddles, when unknown one to the other. The plain map of human powers and purposes, helps us not at all to thread the labyrinth each individual presents in his involution of feelings, desires and capacities; and we must resemble, in quickness of feeling, instinctive sympathy, and warm benevolence, the lovely daughter of Huntley, before we can hope to judge rightly of the good and virtuous of our fellow-creatures. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,
451:Asif Ali maneuvers the gleaming Mercedes down the labyrinthine lanes of Old Kolkata with consummate skill, but his passengers do not notice how smoothly he avoids potholes, cows and beggars, how skilfully he sails through aging yellow lights to get the Bose family to their destination on time. This disappoints Asif only a little. In his six years of chauffeuring the rich and callous, he has realized that, to them, servants are invisible. ~ Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni,
452:It was hard for a man and a woman to be fiends with no under thought or glimpsed prospect of sex. They wanted to be friends. It was almost a matter of principle. She was as intelligent as any Fellow of King's - though he thought she did not know it - he was in love with her mind as it followed clues through labyrinths. Love is, among many other things, a response to energy, and Griselda's mind was precise and energetic. He wanted to make love to her too. ~ A S Byatt,
453:To the degree that the British right hand didn’t know what the left was doing, it was because a select group of men at the highest reaches of its government went to great lengths to ensure it. To that end, they created a labyrinth of information firewalls—deceptions, in a less charitable assessment—to make sure that crucial knowledge was withheld from Britain’s wartime allies and even from many of her own seniormost diplomats and military commanders. ~ Scott Anderson,
454:Abandoning the flatland ages past,   And finding mountains much more to their taste,   They toil in labyrinthine caverns, dense   With gases that are metal’s noble source; 10770 They separate, combine, test, trying to   Discover things undreamt of hitherto.   By spirit power, subtly, they construct   Forms clear and crystalline, without defect;   Then in the crystal’s eternal silence peering,   Perceive what in the upper world is occurring. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,
455:Philosophy is written in this all-encompassing book that is constantly open to our eyes, that is the universe; but it cannot be understood unless one first learns to understand the language and knows the characters in which it is written. It is written in mathematical language, and its characters are triangles, circles, and other geometrical figures; without these it is humanly impossible to understand a word of it, and one wanders in a dark labyrinth. ~ Galileo Galilei,
456:Potential fame, fortune, or freedom aside, there is simply no better way to learn about yourself than starting a business. And when you truly know yourself, you tend to design a business that matches your strengths. Because you are the one in charge, you care more. No longer constrained by a labyrinthine bureaucracy, you think bigger. And given the flexibility to design whatever you want, you are more likely to do something that means something to the world. ~ Pamela Slim,
457:The intensity of her religious disposition, the coercion it exercised over her life, was but one aspect of a nature altogether ardent, theoretic, and intellectually consequent: and with such a nature, struggling in the bonds of a narrow teaching, hemmed in by a social life which seemed nothing but a labyrinth of petty courses, a walled-in maze of small paths that led no whither, the outcome was sure to strike others as at once exaggeration and inconsistency. ~ George Eliot,
458:Philosophy is written in that great book which ever lies before our eyes — I mean the universe — but we cannot understand it if we do not first learn the language and grasp the symbols, in which it is written. This book is written in the mathematical language, and the symbols are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without whose help it is impossible to comprehend a single word of it; without which one wanders in vain through a dark labyrinth. ~ Galileo Galilei,
459:Philosophy [nature] is written in that great book which ever is before our eyes -- I mean the universe -- but we cannot understand it if we do not first learn the language and grasp the symbols in which it is written. The book is written in mathematical language, and the symbols are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without whose help it is impossible to comprehend a single word of it; without which one wanders in vain through a dark labyrinth. ~ Galileo Galilei,
460:A woman never overcomes these problems by any exercise of thought. They are not to be solved, or only in one way. If her heart chance to come uppermost, they vanish. Thus Hester Prynne, whose heart had lost its regular and healthy throb, wandered without a clue in the dark labyrinth of mind; now turned aside by an insurmountable precipice; now starting back from a deep chasm. There was wild and ghastly scenery all around her, and a home and comfort nowhere. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne,
461:It was the perfect set. Theseus gave a great war cry and brought his sword arcing up toward Sheba’s throat - but the monster of the labyrinth lives inside us all. She is the dark, devouring hunger that is never sated, the creeping shadow that ever plays the fiend to our seraphim, the secret rage hidden in our hearts; deny her, and we become her slaves; fight her, and we make her invincible. By now, you must know that no monster can ever be killed, not really - […] ~ Troy Denning,
462:I e-mailed all my clients a twenty-percent-off coupon.
Diverted all thoughts of Helen.
Thwarted all invitations to binge drink with Lee and Chip.
Allowed myself only brief, utilitarian forays into the labyrinth of Internet porn.
Delighted in the shrinkage of my potbelly.
Took pleasure in the flexing of new muscle tone.
Snacked on baby carrots.
Learned to appreciate the slow crawl of the sun over my patio as I gingerly sipped a Miller Light ~ Julia Elliott,
463:It was right then, between when I asked about the labyrinth and when she answered me, that I realized the importance of curves, of the thousand places where girls' bodies ease from one place to another, from arc to the foot to ankle to calf, from calf to hip to wait to breast to neck to ski-slope nose to forehead to shoulder to the concave arch of the back to the butt to the etc. I'd noticed curves before, of course, but I had never quite apprehended their significance. ~ John Green,
464:I stared at Jean-Claude and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just him. It was love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to neither of us would change the other, even if we could. I love Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else. ~ Laurell K Hamilton,
465:Lots of forms. Stacks of forms. An average of nine thousand, seven hundred, and forty-seven of them were required to gain entrance to Hell. The largest form ran to fifteen thousand, four hundred, and ninety-seven questions. The shortest to just five, but five of such subtle phraseology, labyrinthine grammar, and malicious ambiguity that, released into the mortal world, they would certainly have formed the basis of a new religion or, at the least, a management course. ~ Jonathan L Howard,
466:If one yearns to see the face of the Divine, one must break out of the aquarium, escape the fish farm, to go swim up wild cataracts, dive in deep fjords. One must explore the labyrinth of the reef, the shadows of the lily pads. How limiting, how insulting to think of God as a benevolent warden, an absentee hatchery manager who imprisons us in the 'comfort' of artificial pools, where intermediaries sprinkle our restrictive waters with sanitized flakes of processed nutriment. ~ Tom Robbins,
467: Secrets Of The Heart
Open, my heart, thy ruddy valves;
It is thy master calls;
Let me go down, and, curious, trace
Thy labyrinthine halls.
Open, O heart, and let me view
The secrets of thy den;
Myself unto myself now show
With introspective ken.
Expose thyself, thou covered nest
Of passions, and be seen;
Stir up thy brood, that in unrest
Are ever piping keen.
Ah! what a motley multitude,
Magnanimous and mean!
~ Charles Heavysege,
468:Since most law-abiding citizens had no contact with the parole system, it was not a priority with the state legislatures. And since most of the state's prisoners were either poor or black, and unable to use the system to their advantage, it was easy to hit them with harsh sentences and keep them locked up. But for an inmate with a few connections and some cash, the parole system was a marvelous labyrinth of contradictory laws that allowed the Parole Board to pass out favors. ~ John Grisham,
469:Sometimes I am assaulted by the memory of a scene from that time on the street, a memory that flares up inside me and leaves me trembling. Other times I wake up sweating with images in my head, as vivid as if they were real. In the dream I see myself running naked, screaming voicelessly, in a labyrinth of narrow alleys that coil like serpents, buildings with blank doors and windows, not a soul to ask for help, my body burning, my feet bleeding, bile in my mouth, all alone. ~ Isabel Allende,
470:I thought it might be a fine time to say the Three Little Words. And I steeled myself to say them as I stared up at that starriest night, convinced myself that she felt it, too, that her hand so alive and vivid against my leg was more than playful, and fuck Lara and fuck Jake because I do, Alaska Young, I do love you and what else matters but that and my lips parted to speak and before I could even begin to breathe out the words, she said, “It’s not life or death, the labyrinth. ~ John Green,
471:To all appearances the artist acts like a mediumistic being who, from the labyrinth beyond time and space, seeks his way out to a clearing. If we give the attributes of a medium to the artist, we must then deny him the state of consciousness on the aesthetic plane about what he is doing or why he is doing it. All this decisions in the artistic execution of the work rest with pure intuition and cannot be translated into a self-analysis, spoken or written, or even thought out. ~ Marcel Duchamp,
472:And that is why, after four days of bleeding, stumbling, and starving, after four days of Immiker reminding him repeatedly that he was well enough to keep walking, Larch and Immiker stepped out of the tunnel not into the light of the Monsean foothills, but into that of a strange land on the other side of the Monsean peaks. An eastern land neither of them had heard of except for foolish tales told over Monsean dinners—tales of rainbow-colored monsters and underground labyrinths. ~ Kristin Cashore,
473:The most fearsome monsters of all may inhabit the dark corners of our mind waiting for us to release them through our believes and gullibility. the phenomenon feeds on fear and believe. Sometimes it destroys us altogether other times it leads us upwards into the labyrinth of electromagnetic frequencies that form a curtain in the area we call windows and stalk us to drink our blood and create all kinds of mischievous beliefs and misconceptions in our feeble little terrestrial minds. ~ John A Keel,
474:I can see him now, the victim of labyrinthine machinations that carved away his ears and tongue: a mute prince tossed into a slaver's galley and lost at sea, and at sea until the pink weed filled his head with death, and he fell in step behind the dealer that fed a habit in exchange for cheap muscle. And now, the lost king slept mute among beggar boys and rats spreading crowns in a knighthood of orphans and drugs. Who knows his true history? All we know is his fate among the smoke. ~ J M McDermott,
475:Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; and where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world. ~ Joseph Campbell,
476:My coming to New York had been a mistake; for whereas I had looked for poignant wonder and inspiration in the teeming labyrinths of ancient streets that twist endlessly from forgotten courts and squares and waterfronts to courts and squares and waterfronts equally forgotten, and in the Cyclopean modern towers and pinnacles that rise blackly Babylonian under waning moons, I had found instead only a sense of horror and oppression which threatened to master, paralyse, and annihilate me. ~ H P Lovecraft,
477:London always reminds me of a brain. It is similarly convoluted and circuitous. A lot of cities, especially American ones like New York and Chicago, are laid out in straight lines. Like the circuits on computer chips, there are a lot of right angles in cities like this. But London is a glorious mess. It evolved from a score or so of distinct villages, that merged and meshed as their boundaries enlarged. As a result, London is a labyrinth, full of turnings and twistings just like a brain. ~ James Geary,
478:A man craves ultimate truths. Every mortal mind, I think, is that way. But what is ultimate truth? It's the end of the road, where there is no more mystery, no more hope. And no more questions to ask, since all the answers have been given. But there is no such place.
The Universe is a labyrinth made of labyrinths. Each leads to another. And wherever we cannot go ourselves, we reach with mathematics. Out of mathematics we build wagons to carry us into the nonhuman realms of the world. ~ Stanis aw Lem,
479:This was the first time that he has ever looked into the labyrinth of the human soul. He was very far from understanding what he saw. But what was of more value, he felt and suffered with her. In years that were yet to come, he relived this memory in song, in the most beautiful song this world has known. For the understanding of the soul's defencelessness, of the conflict between the two poles, is not the source of the greatest song. The source of the greatest song is sympathy. ~ Halld r Kiljan Laxness,
480:Chalmers stopped listening and let his gaze wander over the new city. They were going to call it Nicosia. It was the first town of any size to be built free-standing on the Martian surface; all the buildings were set inside what was in effect an immense clear tent, supported by a nearly invisible frame, and placed on the rise of Tharsis, west of Noctis Labyrinthus. This location gave it a tremendous view, with a distant western horizon punctuated by the broad peak of Pavonis Mons. ~ Kim Stanley Robinson,
481:I had come to the conclusion a long time ago that there was no escape from the labyrinth of contradictions in which we live except by an entirely new road, unlike anything hitherto known or used by us. But where this new or forgotten road began I was unable to say. I already knew then as an undoubted fact that beyond the thin film of false reality there existed another reality from which, for some reason, something separated us. The 'miraculous' was a penetration into this unknown reality. ~ P D Ouspensky,
482:She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation. In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin? ~ Margaret Atwood,
483:Indisputably we live in a shaped reality, an artificialism. Most people who grasp this are thinking only at a consumer-level, of the "things" they like and need and feel impelled to acquire. But our societal and political arrangements are just as much manipulations of game-pieces and rules as is any Atari or Sega product. The subliminal psychology that drives people to become addicted to games, not to be able to see over the edges of their labyrinths, is transferable to any field whatsoever. ~ Kenny Smith,
484:Not to find one's way around a city does not mean much. But to lose one's way in a city, as one loses one's way in a forest, requires some schooling. Street names must speak to the urban wanderer like the snapping of dry twigs, and little streets in the heart of the city must reflect the times of day, for him, as clearly as a mountain valley. This art I acquired rather late in life; it fulfilled a dream, of which the first traces were labyrinths on the blotting papers in my school notebooks. ~ Walter Benjamin,
485:And since we don’t just forget things because they don’t matter but also forget things because they matter too much because each of us remembers and forgets in a pattern whose labyrinthine windings are an identification mark no less distinctive than a fingerprintit’s no wonder that the shards of reality one person will cherish as a biography can seem to someone else who, say, happened to have eaten some ten thousand dinners at the very same kitchen table, to be a willful excursion into mythomania ~ Philip Roth,
486:And since we don’t just forget things because they don’t matter but also forget things because they matter too much because each of us remembers and forgets in a pattern whose labyrinthine windings are an identification mark no less distinctive than a fingerprint's, it’s no wonder that the shards of reality one person will cherish as a biography can seem to someone else who, say, happened to have eaten some ten thousand dinners at the very same kitchen table, to be a willful excursion into mythomania ~ Philip Roth,
487:And since we don't just forget things because they don't matter but also forget things because they matter too much-- because each of us remembers and forgets in a pattern whose labyrinthine windings are an identification mark no less distinctive than a fingerprint--it's no wonder that the shards of reality one person will cherish as a biography can seem to someone else who, say, happened to have eaten some ten thousand dinners at the very same kitchen table, to be a willful excursion into mythomania. ~ Philip Roth,
488:When I use a name or place, I want to leave the reader open to the waterfall of determinacy that it may provoke. And I don't know, but I must mention the name Borges. I try to mention it in every one of my works. It's a mark, a stamp, a sort of homage to Argentinidad. But it's an homage that works through pat phrases, those stock images that populate his work: the night, labyrinths, libraries. That is, I don't want simply to pay homage to Borges, but rather the contrary: to recall his commonplaces. ~ Sergio Chejfec,
489:Theseus and Ariande. Theseus says to Ariande, “I’ll love you forever if you can show me a way to come out of the labyrinth.” So she gives him a ball of string, which he unwinds as he goes into the labyrinth, and then follows to find the way out. You say, “All he had was the string. That’s all you need.” CAMPBELL: That’s all you need—an Ariande thread. MOYERS: Sometimes we look for great wealth to save us, a great power to save us, or great ideas to save us, when all we need is that piece of string. ~ Joseph Campbell,
490:She was gone then in a flurry of bonnet ribbons and clicking slippers. I turned, paying no attention to where I went, wishing the city would swallow me, conscious now of the hunger rising to overtake reason. I was almost loath to put an end to it. I needed to let the lust, the excitement blot out all consciousness, and I thought of the kill over and over and over, walking slowly up this street and down the next, moving inexorably towards it, saying, It's a string which is pulling me through the labyrinth. ~ Anne Rice,
491:Of four infernal rivers that disgorge/ Into the burning Lake their baleful streams;/Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,/Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;/Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud/ Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon/ Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage./ Far off from these a slow and silent stream,/ Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls/ Her wat'ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,/ Forthwith his former state and being forgets,/ Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. ~ John Milton,
492:Philosophy is written in this grand book, the universe, which stands continually open to our gaze. But the book cannot be understood unless one first learns to comprehend the language and read the characters in which it is written. It is written in the language of mathematics, and its characters are triangles, circles, and other geometric figures without which it is humanly impossible to understand a single word of it; without these one is wandering in a dark labyrinth. —Galileo Galilei, The Assayer, 1623 ~ Max Tegmark,
493:The most spiritual men, as the strongest, find their happiness where others would find their destruction: in the labyrinth, in hardness against themselves and others, in experiments. Their joy is self-conquest: asceticism becomes in them nature, need, and instinct. Difficult tasks are a privilege to them; to play with burdens that crush others, a recreation. Knowledge-a form of asceticism. They are the most venerable kind of man: that does not preclude their being the most cheerful and the kindliest. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
494:The most spiritual men, as the strongest, find their happiness where others would find their destruction: in the labyrinth, in hardness against themselves and others, in experiments. Their joy is self-conquest: asceticism becomes in them nature, need, and instinct. Difficult tasks are a privilege to them; to play with burdens that crush others, a recreation. Knowledge–a form of asceticism. They are the most venerable kind of man: that does not preclude their being the most cheerful and the kindliest. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
495:This I saw myself, and I found it greater than words can say. For if one should put together and reckon up all the buildings and all the great works produced by Hellenes, they would prove to be inferior in labour and expense to this labyrinth, though it is true that both the temple at Ephesos and that at Samos are works worthy of note. The pyramids also were greater than words can say, and each one of them is equal to many works of the Hellenes, great as they may be; but the labyrinth surpasses even the pyramids. ~ Herodotus,
496:Leibniz raised his eyebrows and spent a few moments staring at the clutter of pots and cups on the table. “This is one of the two great labyrinths into which human minds are drawn: the question of free will versus predestination. You were raised to believe in the latter. You have rejected it—which must have been a great spiritual struggle—and become a thinker. You have adopted a modern, mechanical philosophy. But that very philosophy now seems to be leading you back towards predestination. It is most difficult. ~ Neal Stephenson,
497:Hidden amongst the cluck and hiss, the croak and chatter outside the window, are songs of the extinct. The epic of evolution, told by bards long gone. Oh, to abandon the labyrinthine shell and shed old skin. To be naked and vulnerable. Free to swim, sprint and fly without inhibition. To vanish without a trace only to reappear as a mating call, the way the sun sets in the west and rises in the east … Can their stories and songs be heard by the living, they wonder. Do they acknowledge their legacy in the fossils? ~ Shubhangi Swarup,
498:Yes, you are.” Karen’s stomach was huge. Louise didn’t remember being that big with Archie, he had been tiny, almost premature. Louise blamed herself, she had smoked through the first three months because she had no idea she was pregnant. Louise was sure that buried deep inside her, lurking in the murky labyrinth of her heart, there was an incredibly well-behaved person wondering when she would ever be let out. Patrick probably wondered the same thing. Patient Patrick, waiting for her to come good. Long wait, baby. ~ Kate Atkinson,
499:I glanced down several of the walkways that branched off the main one. “Is it a real labyrinth?”

“Yes. But I haven’t checked it out.”

“Looks kind of fun, don’t you think?” I looked up at him. “I’ve never been in a labyrinth before.”

A real smile replaced the smug one. “Maybe if you’re good—and I mean, really good—we can come play in the labyrinth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, really?”

He nodded. “You have to eat your dinner, too.”

I didn’t even bother responding to that. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,
500:J'ai refermé mes bras autour de mes épaules et j'ai pleuré pour l'enfant, et pour l'autre âme qui était morte à ses côtés. Mes congénères. Ma famille. Les miens. Si j'avais découvert la façon de sortir de ce labyrinthe souterrain, si j'avais prévenu la Traqueuse, ses deux âmes ne baigneraient pas dans leur sang, déchiquetées, leurs restes mêlés.
Je voulais sangloter, me lamenter. Mais c'était la façon humaine. Alors j'ai serré les lèvres et me suis recroquevillée dans le noir, gardant mon chagrin à l'intérieur. ~ Stephenie Meyer,

--- IN CHAPTERS (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)



34

   1 Philosophy
   1 Occultism
   1 Alchemy


   6 Jorge Luis Borges
   3 Sri Aurobindo
   2 The Mother
   2 Nolini Kanta Gupta
   2 Jorge Luis Borges
   2 Friedrich Nietzsche


   3 The Secret Doctrine
   3 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
   2 The Mothers Agenda
   2 Selected Fictions
   2 Savitri


02.02_-_The_Kingdom_of_Subtle_Matter, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  In the sumptuous lineaments traced by desire.
  The golden issue of mind's Labyrinth plots,
  The riches unfound or still uncaught by our lives,

02.06_-_The_Kingdoms_and_Godheads_of_the_Greater_Life, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  A glimmer of fugitive feet on fleeing soil.
  In the Labyrinth pattern of her thoughts and hopes
  And the byways of her intimate desires,
  --
  Appeared upon the cosmic vague background.
  Only another Labyrinthine house
  Of creatures and their doings and events,

1.01_-_Economy, #Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, #Henry David Thoreau, #Philosophy
  
  However, if one designs to construct a dwelling house, it behooves him to exercise a little Yankee shrewdness, lest after all he find himself in a workhouse, a Labyrinth without a clue, a museum, an almshouse, a prison, or a splendid mausoleum instead. Consider first how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary. I have seen Penobscot Indians, in this town, living in tents of thin cotton cloth, while the snow was nearly a foot deep around them, and I thought that they would be glad to have it deeper to keep out the wind. Formerly, when how to get my living honestly, with freedom left for my proper pursuits, was a question which vexed me even more than it does now, for unfortunately I am become somewhat callous, I used to see a large box by the railroad, six feet long by three wide, in which the laborers locked up their tools at night, and it suggested to me that every man who was hard pushed might get such a one for a dollar, and, having bored a few auger holes in it, to admit the air at least, get into it when it rained and at night, and hook down the lid, and so have freedom in his love, and in his soul be free. This did not appear the worst, nor by any means a despicable alternative. You could sit up as late as you pleased, and, whenever you got up, go abroad without any landlord or house-lord dogging you for rent. Many a man is harassed to death to pay the rent of a larger and more luxurious box who would not have frozen to death in such a box as this. I am far from jesting. Economy is a subject which admits of being treated with levity, but it cannot so be disposed of. A comfortable house for a rude and hardy race, that lived mostly out of doors, was once made here almost entirely of such materials as Nature furnished ready to their hands. Gookin, who was superintendent of the Indians subject to the Massachusetts Colony, writing in 1674, says, The best of their houses are covered very neatly, tight and warm, with barks of trees, slipped from their bodies at those seasons when the sap is up, and made into great flakes, with pressure of weighty timber, when they are green.... The meaner sort are covered with mats which they make of a kind of bulrush, and are also indifferently tight and warm, but not so good as the former.... Some I have seen, sixty or a hundred feet long and thirty feet broad.... I have often lodged in their wigwams, and found them as warm as the best English houses. He adds, that they were commonly carpeted and lined within with well-wrought embroidered mats, and were furnished with various utensils. The Indians had advanced so far as to regulate the effect of the wind by a mat suspended over the hole in the roof and moved by a string. Such a lodge was in the first instance constructed in a day or two at most, and taken down and put up in a few hours; and every family owned one, or its apartment in one.
  

1.02_-_The_Refusal_of_the_Call, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  His flowering world becomes a wasteland of dry stones and his life feels meaninglesseven though, like King Minos, he may through titanic effort succeed in building an empire of renown.
  Whatever house he builds, it will be a house of death: a Labyrinth of cyclopean walls to hide from him his Minotaur. All he can do is create new problems for himself and await the gradual approach of his disintegration.
  
  --
    I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
    I fled Him, down the Labyrinthine ways
    Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
  --
  
  One is harassed, both day and night, by the divine being that is the image of the living self within the locked Labyrinth of one's own disoriented psyche. The ways to the gates have all been lost: there is no exit. One can only cling, like Satan, furiously, to one self and be in hell; or else break, and be annihilate at last, in God.
  "Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

1.03_-_Supernatural_Aid, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  The thread of Ariadne brought Theseus safely through the ad
  venture of the Labyrinth. This is the guiding power that runs
  through the work of Dante in the female figures of Beatrice and

1.09_-_Equality_and_the_Annihilation_of_Ego, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  13:Here too, in this movement by which the soul divests itself gradually of the obscure robe of the ego, there is a progress by marked stages. For not only the fruit of works belongs to the Lord alone, but our works also must be his; he is the true lord of our actions no less than of our results. This we must not see with the thinking mind only, it must become entirely true to our entire consciousness and will. The sadhaka has not only to think and know but to see and feel concretely and intensely even in the moment of the working and in its initiation and whole process that his works are not his at all, but are coming through him from the Supreme Existence. He must be always aware of a Force, a Presence, a Will that acts through his individual nature. But there is in taking this turn the danger that he may confuse his own disguised or sublimated ego or an inferior power with the Lord and substitute its demands for the supreme dictates. He may fall into a common ambush of this lower nature and distort his supposed surrender to a higher Power into an excuse for a magnified and uncontrolled indulgence of his own self-will and even of his desires and passions. A great sincerity is asked for and has to be imposed not only on the conscious mind but still more on the subliminal part of us which is full of hidden movements. For there is there, especially in our subliminal vital nature, an incorrigible charlatan and actor. The sadhaka must first have advanced far in the elimination of desire and in the firm equality of his soul towards all workings and all happenings before he can utterly lay down the burden of his works on the Divine. At every moment he must proceed with a vigilant eye upon the deceits of the ego and the ambushes of the misleading Powers of Darkness who ever represent themselves as the one Source of Light and Truth and take on them a simulacrum of divine forms in order to capture the soul of the seeker.
  14:Immediately he must take the further step of relegating himself to the position of the Witness. Aloof from the Prakriti, impersonal and dispassionate, he must watch the executive Nature-Force at work within him and understand its action; he must learn by this separation to recognise the play of her universal forces, distinguish her interweaving of light and night, the divine and the undivine, and detect her formidable Powers and Beings that use the ignorant human creature. Nature works in us, says the Gita, through the triple quality of Prakriti, the quality of light and good, the quality of passion and desire and the quality of obscurity and inertia. The seeker must learn to distinguish, as an impartial and discerning witness of all that proceeds within this kingdom of his nature, the separate and the combined action of these qualities; he must pursue the workings of the cosmic forces in him through all the Labyrinth of their subtle unseen processes and disguises and know every intricacy of the maze. As he proceeds in this knowledge, he will be able to become the giver of the sanction and no longer remain an ignorant tool of Nature. At first he must induce the NatureForce in its action on his instruments to subdue the working of its two lower qualities and bring them into subjection to the quality of light and good and, afterwards, he must persuade that again to offer itself so that all three may be transformed by a higher Power into their divine equivalents, supreme repose and calm, divine illumination and bliss, the eternal divine dynamis, Tapas. The first part of this discipline and change can be firmly done in principle by the will of the mental being in us; but its full execution and the subsequent transformation can be done only when the deeper psychic soul increases its hold on the nature and replaces the mental being as its ruler. When this happens, he will be ready to make, not only with an aspiration and intention and an initial and progressive self-abandonment but with the most intense actuality of dynamic self-giving, the complete renunciation of his works to the Supreme Will. By degrees his mind of an imperfect human intelligence will be replaced by a spiritual and illumined mind and that can in the end enter into the supramental Truth-Light; he will then no longer act from his nature of the Ignorance with its three modes of confused and imperfect activity, but from a diviner nature of spiritual calm, light, power and bliss. He will act not from an amalgam of an ignorant mind and will with the drive of a still more ignorant heart of emotion and the desire of the life-being and the urge and instinct of the flesh, but first from a spiritualised self and nature and, last, from a supramental Truth-consciousness and its divine force of supernature.
  15:Thus are made possible the final steps when the veil of Nature is withdrawn and the seeker is face to face with the Master of all existence and his activities are merged in the action of a supreme Energy which is pure, true, perfect and blissful for ever. Thus can he utterly renounce to the supramental Shakti his works as well as the fruits of his works and act only as the conscious instrument of the eternal Worker. No longer giving the sanction, he will rather receive in his instruments and follow in her hands a divine mandate. No longer doing works, he will accept their execution through him by her unsleeping Force. No longer willing the fulfilment of his own mental constructions and the satisfaction of his own emotional desires, he will obey and participate in an omnipotent Will that is also an omniscient Knowledge and a myterious, magical and unfathomable Love and a vast bottomless sea of the eternal Bliss of Existence.

1.12_-_Sleep_and_Dreams, #Words Of The Mother III, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  
  The servant: who showed us the way through the Labyrinth, gave us some food and even a smoky light (torch, very poor) to find our way in the dark, the lower nature; she asked
  134

2.01_-_The_Road_of_Trials, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  descending, either intentionally or unintentionally, into the crooked
  lanes of his own spiritual Labyrinth, he soon finds himself in a
  landscape of symbolical figures (any one of which may swallow

2.02_-_IN_THE_COMPANY_OF_DEVOTEES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  
  God and His glory & Dangers of worldly life MASTER: "God and His glory. This universe is His glory. People see His glory and forget everything. They do not seek God, whose glory is this world. All seek to enjoy 'woman and gold'. But there is too much misery and worry in that. This world is like the whirlpool of the Vilki. Once a boat gets into it there is no hope of its rescue. Again, the world is like a thorny bush: you have hardly freed yourself from one set of thorns before you find yourself entangled in another. Once you enter a Labyrinth you find it very difficult to get out. Living in the world, a man becomes seared, as it were."
  

2.0_-_THE_ANTICHRIST, #Twilight of the Idols, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
  for which no one has enough courage nowadays; the courage for the
  _forbidden;_ his predestination must be the Labyrinth. The experience
  of seven solitudes. New ears for new music. New eyes for the most
  --
  life, our happiness...._ We discovered happiness; we know the way; we
  found the way out of thousands of years of Labyrinth. Who _else_ would
  have found it?--Not the modern man, surely?--"I do not know where I
  --
  men, as the _strongest_ find their happiness where others meet
  with their ruin: in the Labyrinth, in hardness towards themselves
  and others, in endeavour; their delight is self-mastery: with them

2.14_-_The_Origin_and_Remedy_of_Falsehood,_Error,_Wrong_and_Evil, #The Life Divine, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  F IGNORANCE is in its nature a self-limiting knowledge oblivious of the integral self-awareness and confined to an exclusive concentration in a single field or upon a concealing surface of cosmic movement, what, in this view, are we to make of the problem which most poignantly preoccupies the mind of man when it is turned on the mystery of his own existence and of cosmic existence, the problem of evil? A limited knowledge supported by a secret All-Wisdom as an instrument for working out within the necessary limitations a restricted world-order may be admitted as an intelligible process of the universal Consciousness and Energy; but the necessity of falsehood and error, the necessity of wrong and evil or their utility in the workings of the omnipresent Divine Reality is less easily admissible. And yet if that Reality is what we have supposed it to be, there must be some necessity for the appearance of these contrary phenomena, some significance, some function that they had to serve in the economy of the universe. For in the complete and inalienable self-knowledge of the Brahman which is necessarily all-knowledge, since all this that is is the
  Brahman, such phenomena cannot have come in as a chance, an intervening accident, an involuntary forgetfulness or confusion of the Consciousness-Force of the All-Wise in the cosmos or an ugly contretemps for which the indwelling Spirit was not prepared and of which it is the prisoner erring in a Labyrinth with the utmost difficulty of escape. Nor can it be an inexplicable mystery of being, original and eternal, of which the divine AllTeacher is incapable of giving an account to himself or to us.
  There must be behind it a significance of the All-Wisdom itself, a power of the All-Consciousness which permits and uses it for some indispensable function in the present workings of our selfexperience and world-experience. This aspect of existence needs now to be examined more directly and determined in its origins and the limits of its reality and its place in Nature.

Aeneid, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  As once, in ancient days, so it is said,
  the Labyrinth in high Crete had a path
  built out of blind walls, an ambiguous
  --
  a monument to her polluted passion.
  And here the inextricable Labyrinth,
  the house of toil, was carved; but Daedalus
  --
  aided by Daedalus, helped Theseus find his way through a
  Labyrinth by means of a guiding thread, vi, 40.
  Ari'cia a nymph, consort of HiPPOLYTUS-Virbius after his resurrection and mother by him of VIRBIUS (2). The town of Aricia
  --
  Cnos'sus capital of Crete, and site of the palace of Minos and the
  Labyrinth, in, 155.
  Co'cles, Pu'blius Hora'tius famous Roman who held the
  --
  
  Dae'dalus the fabulous craftsman who built the Labyrinth to contain the Minotaur for King Minos of Crete. When imprisoned
  there with his son ICARUS, Daedalus contrived an escape by fashioning wings of feathers held by wax on wooden frames.
  --
  I'carus son of DAEDALUS and imprisoned with him in the
  Labyrinth. When his father constructed wings for their escape, he
  warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, lest its heat melt the
  --
  Minotaur by a bull, and Minos commissioned DAEDALUS to
  build the Labyrinth as a place of confinement for the monster.
  Minos' daughter Ariadne aided the Greek prince Theseus in

Agenda_Vol_12, #The Mothers Agenda, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  ones direction and the golden thread that leads to our perfect fulfillment, be it individual or
  national. Those who have left their unique mark upon the Labyrinth of history are the very
  ones who have seized the golden thread and affirmed the Greater History and the Greater

Agenda_Vol_3, #The Mothers Agenda, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  The other being doesn't yet have the power to direct (how shall I put it?)... to openly and consciously
  direct your destiny. That's why you might still find yourself wandering in Labyrinths.
  For the moment I am in a seemingly neutral state - all I can say is, "We'll see." There is no definite
  --
  But that's not what I was after!
  It is the Labyrinthine path through the circumstances of physical life.
  That's just as clear as can be.

BOOK_II._--_PART_I._ANTHROPOGENESIS., #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
  which preceded the purely human kings, was found in the distribution of the tiers and passages of the
  Egyptian Labyrinth. As the three inversions of the Poles of course changed the face of the Zodiac, a
  new one had to be constructed each time. In Mackey's "Sphinxiad" the speculations of the bold author
  must have horrified the orthodox portion of the population of Norwich, as he says, fantastically
  enough: -"But, after all, the greatest length of time recorded by those monuments (the Labyrinth, the Pyramids
  and the Zodiacs) does not exceed five millions of years (which is not so)*; which falls short of the

BOOK_II._--_PART_III._ADDENDA._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
  preserved, affords no conclusive evidence of specific origin by infinitesimal fortuitous
  variations; while some forms, as the Labyrinthodonts and trilobites, which seemed to
  exhibit gradual change, are shown by further investigation to do nothing of the sort. . . .
  --
  guide that can be given to the beginner before he is permitted to start among the (to him) unfamiliar
  windings of that dark Labyrinth called the pre-historic ages. This necessity has been complied with. It is
  only hoped that the desire to do so, which has led the writer to be constantly bringing ancient and

BOOK_I._--_PART_I._COSMIC_EVOLUTION, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
  it is not so. The learned Oxford philologist himself confesses the truth by saying that "Though . . . we
  see still standing the Pyramids, and the ruins of temples and Labyrinths, their walls
  [[Footnote(s)]] -------------------------------------------------

Book_of_Imaginary_Beings_(text), #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  head, but both ideas go well together and the image of the
  Labyrinth fits with the image of the Minotaur. It is equally
  fitting that in the centre of a monstrous house there be a
  --
  that Neptune brought out of the sea. Daedalus, who invented the artifice that carried the Queens unnatural desires to
  gratification, built the Labyrinth destined to confine and
  keep hidden her monstrous son. The Minotaur fed on human
  --
  thread so that he could trace his way out of the windings of
  the Labyrinths corridors; the hero killed the Minotaur and
  was able to escape from the maze.
  --
  name was labrys and may have been at the root of the word
  Labyrinth) was typical of pre-Hellenic religions, which held
  sacred bullfights. Human forms with bull heads figured, to
  --
  Kyoto,
  Labyrinths,
  Lacrimacorpus dissolvens,

LUX.05_-_AUGOEIDES, #Liber Null, #Peter J Carroll, #Occultism
  
  The key to this puzzle is in the phenomena of the plane of duality in which we find ourselves. We are, as it were, trapped in a Labyrinth or maze. The only thing to do is move about and keep a close watch on the way the walls turn. In a completely chaotic universe such as this one, there are no accidents. Everything is signifcant. Move a single grain of sand on a distant shore and the entire future history of the world will eventually be changed.
  
  --
  
  Keeping a close eye on the walls of the Labyrinth, the conditions of his existence, the magician may then begin his invocation. The genius is not something added to oneself. Rather it is a stripping away of excess to reveal the god within.
  

Maps_of_Meaning_text, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  episode concludes with the crossing of the Red Sea, the separation of Israel from Egypt, and the
  drowning of the Egyptian host. The second episode is the wandering in the wilderness, a Labyrinthine
  period of lost direction, where one generation has to die off before a new one can enter the Promised

The_Act_of_Creation_text, #The Act of Creation, #Arthur Koestler, #Psychology
  
  man; he always seems to be groping his way through a Labyrinthine
  world, armed with a compass which always points in the wrong

The_Aleph, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
    Left alone in the darkness of the cellar, the narrator begins to fear that Daneri is conspiring to kill him, and then he sees for himself:
      On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. 's diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there, actual and undiminished. Each thing (a mirror's face, let us say) was infinite things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered Labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I'd seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand...[1]
    Though staggered by the experience of seeing , the narrator pretends to have seen nothing in order to get revenge on Daneri, whom he dislikes, by giving Daneri a reason to doubt his own sanity. The narrator tells Daneri that he has lived too long amongst the noise and bustle of the city and spent too much time in the dark and enclosed space of his cellar, and assures him that what he truly needs are the wide open spaces and fresh air of the countryside, and these will provide him the true peace of mind that he needs to complete his poem. He then takes his leave of Daneri and exits the house.
  --
  I arrive now at the ineffable core of my story. And here begins my despair as a writer. All language is a set of symbols whose use among its speakers assumes a shared past. How, then, can I translate into words the limitless Aleph, which my floundering mind can scarcely encompass? Mystics, faced with the same problem, fall back on symbols: to signify the godhead, one Persian speaks of a bird that somehow is all birds; Alanus de Insulis, of a sphere whose center is everywhere and circumference is nowhere; Ezekiel, of a four-faced angel who at one and the same time moves east and west, north and south. (Not in vain do I recall these inconceivable analogies; they bear some relation to the Aleph.) Perhaps the gods might grant me a similar metaphor, but then this account would become contaminated by literature, by fiction. Really, what I want to do is impossible, for any listing of an endless series is doomed to be infinitesimal. In that single gigantic instant I saw millions of acts both delightful and awful; not one of them occupied the same point in space, without overlapping or transparency. What my eyes beheld was simultaneous, but what I shall now write down will be successive, because language is successive. Nonetheless, I'll try to recollect what I can.
  On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. The Aleph's diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there, actual and undiminished. Each thing (a mirror's face, let us say) was infinite things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered Labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I'd seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogu and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny -- Philemon Holland's -- and all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a sunset in Quertaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table (and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters, which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon -- the unimaginable universe.
  I felt infinite wonder, infinite pity.

The_Coming_Race_Contents, #The Coming Race, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
  being to surmount all obstacles, pass through all vicissi-
  tudes, work through all the windings of a Labyrinthine
  journey and finally arrive. Some perhaps do not arrive

The_Dwellings_of_the_Philosophers, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  spirit; a few passages from Zoroaster, witness to the great antiquity of the accursed sciences.
  Finally, bathing in the light field of the basement window and more legible in this Labyrinth of
  imprecisions, the hermetic ternary: Salt, Sulphur, Mercury...
  --
  litigious point and not lose sight of the possibility of nature: it is the only means we have to
  recognize our way in tortuous Labyrinth. Most hermeticists believe that, by the term
  reincrudation, one should understand that which brings back the metal to its primitive state;
  --
  frontispieces of medieval alchemical manuscripts. It was commonly called Solomon’s
  Labyrinth, and we mentioned elsewhere that it was reproduced on the stone floors of our great
  Gothic cathedrals. This figure bears as a motto:
  --
  
  Whatever their shape, whatever the complexity of their layout, the Labyrinths are eloquent
  symbols of the Great Work, considered with regard to its material realization. Therefore we
  --
  Lallemant and among the panels of the alchemical stone of Winterthur. It also occupies one of
  the squares of the Game of the Goose (8) , a popular representation of the Labyrinth of the secret
  Art and collection of the main hieroglyphs of the Great Work.
  --
  Frnech) could be compared to "snakes and ladders". There is a spiral drawn on a board (a spiral resmebling the
  Labyrinth on the floor of the Cathedral of Chartres) with 63 boxes. The idea is to go to the center of the spiral.
  
  --
  Magistery into a philosophical puzzle, will not frighten the educated investigator; but it
  quickly discourages the layman, incapable of finding his way in this Labyrinth of a different
  nature, and unqualified to uncover the correct sequence of the manipulations.

The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_1, #Selected Fictions, #Jorge Luis Borges , #unset
  A lamp lit the platform, but the children's faces remained in a shadow. One of them asked me: "Are you going to Dr. Stephen Albert's house?" Without waiting for my answer, another said: "The house is a good distance away but you won't get lost if you take the road to the left and bear to the left at every crossroad." I threw them a coin (my last), went down some stone steps and started along a deserted road. At a slight incline, the road ran downhill. It was a plain dirt way, and overhead the branches of trees intermingled, while a round moon hung low in the sky as if to keep me company.
  For a moment I thought that Richard Madden might in some way have divined my desperate intent. At once I realized that this would be impossible. The advice about turning always to the left reminded me that such was the common formula for finding the central courtyard of certain Labyrinths. I know something about Labyrinths. Not for nothing am I the greatgrandson of Ts'ui Pen. He was Governor of
  Yunnan and gave up temporal power to write a novel with more characters than there are in the Hung Lou Meng, and to create a maze in which all men would lose themselves. He spent thirteen years on these oddly assorted tasks before he was assassinated by a stranger. His novel had no sense to it and nobody ever found his Labyrinth.
  Under the trees of England I meditated on this lost and perhaps mythical Labyrinth. I imagined it untouched and perfect on the secret summit of some mountain; I imagined it drowned under rice paddies or beneath the sea; I imagined it infinite, made not only of eight-sided pavilions and of twisting paths but also of rivers, provinces and kingdoms . . . I thought of a maze of mazes, of a sinuous, ever growing maze which would take in both past and future and would somehow involve the stars.
  Lost in these imaginary illusions I forgot my destiny - that of the hunted. For an undetermined period of time I felt myself cut off from the world, an abstract spectator. The hazy and murmuring countryside, the moon, the decline of the evening, stirred within me. Going down the gently sloping road I could not feel fatigue. The evening was at once intimate and infinite.
  --
  We sat down, I upon a large, low divan, he with his back to the window and to a large circular clock. I calculated that my pursuer, Richard Madden, could not arrive in less than an hour. My irrevocable decision could wait.
  "A strange destiny," said Stephen Albert, "that of Ts'ui Pen - Governor of his native province, learned in astronomy, in astrology and tireless in the interpretation of the canonical books, a chess player, a famous poet and a calligrapher. Yet he abandoned all to make a book and a Labyrinth. He gave up all the pleasures of oppression, justice, of a well-stocked bed, of banquets, and even of erudition, and shut himself up in the Pavilion of the Limpid Sun for thirteen years. At his death, his heirs found only a mess of manuscripts. The family, as you doubtless know, wished to consign them to the fire, but the executor of the estate - a Taoist or a Buddhist monk - insisted on their publication."
  "Those of the blood of Ts'ui Pen," I replied, "still curse the memory of that monk.
  Such a publication was madness. The book is a shapeless mass of contradictory rough drafts. I examined it once upon a time: the hero dies in the third chapter, while in the fourth he is alive. As for that other enterprise of Ts'ui Pen . . . his Labyrinth . . ."
  "Here is the Labyrinth," Albert said, pointing to a tall, laquered writing cabinet.
  "An ivory Labyrinth?" I exclaimed. "A tiny Labyrinth indeed . . . !"
  "A symbolic Labyrinth," he corrected me. "An invisible Labyrinth of time. I, a barbarous Englishman, have been given the key to this transparent mystery. After more than a hundred years most of the details are irrecoverable, lost beyond all recall, but it isn't hard to image what must have happened. At one time, Ts'ui Pen must have said; 'I am going into seclusion to write a book,' and at another, 'I am retiring to construct a maze.' Everyone assumed these were separate activities. No one realized that the book and the Labyrinth were one and the same. The Pavilion of the Limpid Sun was set in the middle of an intricate garden. This may have suggested the idea of a physical maze.
  "Ts'ui Pen died. In all the vast lands which once belonged to your family, no one could find the Labyrinth. The novel's confusion suggested that it was the Labyrinth.
  Two circumstances showed me the direct solution to the problem. First, the curious legend that Ts'ui Pen had proposed to create an infinite maze, second, a fragment of a letter which I discovered."
  --
  "Fang, let us say, has a secret. A stranger knocks at his door. Fang makes up his mind to kill him. Naturally there are various possible outcomes. Fang can kill the intruder, the intruder can kill Fang, both can be saved, both can die and so on and so on. In
  Ts'ui Pen's work, all the possible solutions occur, each one being the point of departure for other bifurcations. Sometimes the pathways of this Labyrinth converge.
  For example, you come to this house; but in other possible pasts you are my enemy; in others my friend.

The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_2, #Selected Fictions, #Jorge Luis Borges , #unset
  
  For an instant, I thought that Richard Madden in some way had penetrated my desperate plan. Very quickly, I understood that that was impossible. The instructions to turn always to the left reminded me that such was the common procedure for discovering the central point of certain Labyrinths. I have some understanding of Labyrinths: not for nothing am I the great grandson of that Ts'ui Pen who was governor of Yunnan and who renounced worldly power in order to write a novel that might be even more populous than the Hung Lu Meng and to construct a Labyrinth in which all men would become lost. Thirteen years he dedicated to these heterogeneous tasks, but the hand of a stranger murdered him-and his novel was incoherent and no one found the Labyrinth. Beneath English trees I meditated on that lost maze: I imagined it inviolate and perfect at the secret crest of a mountain; I imagined it erased by rice fields or beneath the water; I imagined it infinite, no longer composed of octagonal kiosks and returning paths, but of rivers and provinces and kingdoms. . . I thought of a Labyrinth of Labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading Labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars. Absorbed in these illusory images, I forgot my destiny of one pursued. I felt myself to be, for an unknown period of time, an abstract perceiver of the world. The vague, living countryside, the moon, the remains of the day worked on me, as well as the slope of the road which eliminated any possibility of weariness. The afternoon was intimate, infinite. The road descended and forked among the now confused meadows. A high-pitched, almost syllabic music approached and receded in the shifting of the wind, dimmed by leaves and distance. I thought that a man can be an enemy of other men, of the moments of other men, but not of a country: not of fireflies, words, gardens, streams of water, sunsets. Thus I arrived before a tall, rusty gate. Between the iron bars I made out a poplar grove and a pavilion. I understood suddenly two things, the first trivial, the second almost unbelievable: the music came from the pavilion, and the music was Chinese. For precisely that reason I had openly accepted it without paying it any heed. I do not remember whether there was a bell or whether I knocked with my hand. The sparkling of the music continued.
  
  --
  
  "We descendants of Ts'ui Pen," I replied, "continue to curse that monk. Their publication was senseless. The book is an indeterminate heap of contradictory drafts. I examined it once: in the third chapter the hero dies, in the fourth he is alive. As for the other undertaking of Ts'ui Pen, his Labyrinth. . ."
  
  "Here is Ts'ui Pen's Labyrinth," he said, indicating a tall lacquered desk.
  
  "An ivory Labyrinth!" I exclaimed. "A minimum Labyrinth."
  
  "A Labyrinth of symbols," he corrected. "An invisible Labyrinth of time. To me, a barbarous Englishman, has been entrusted the revelation of this diaphanous mystery. After more than a hundred years, the details are irretrievable; but it is not hard to conjecture what happened. Ts'ui Pen must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a Labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing. The Pavilion of the Limpid Solitude stood in the center of a garden that was perhaps intricate; that circumstance could have suggested to the heirs a physical Labyrinth. Hs'ui Pen died; no one in the vast territories that were his came upon the Labyrinth; the confusion of the novel suggested to me that it was the maze. Two circumstances gave me the correct solution of the problem. One: the curious legend that Ts'ui Pen had planned to create a Labyrinth which would be strictly infinite. The other: a fragment of a letter I discovered."
  
  --
  
  "Before unearthing this letter, I had questioned myself about the ways in which a book can be infinite. I could think of nothing other than a cyclic volume, a circular one. A book whose last page was identical with the first, a book which had the possibility of continuing indefinitely. I remembered too that night which is at the middle of the Thousand and One Nights when Scheherazade (through a magical oversight of the copyist) begins to relate word for word the story of the Thousand and One Nights, establishing the risk of coming once again to the night when she must repeat it, and thus on to infinity. I imagined as well a Platonic, hereditary work, transmitted from father to son, in which each new individual adds a chapter or corrects with pious care the pages of his elders. These conjectures diverted me; but none seemed to correspond, not even remotely, to the contradictory chapters of Ts'ui Pen. In the midst of this perplexity, I received from Oxford the manuscript you have examined. I lingered, naturally, on the sentence: I leave to the various futures (not to all) my garden of forking paths. Almost instantly, I understood: 'the garden of forking paths' was the chaotic novel; the phrase 'the various futures (not to all)' suggested to me the forking in time, not in space. A broad rereading of the work confirmed the theory. In all fictional works, each time a man is confronted with several alternatives, he chooses one and eliminates the others; in the fiction of Ts'ui Pen, he chooses-simultaneously-all of them. He creates, in this way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork. Here, then, is the explanation of the novel's contradictions. Fang, let us say, has a secret; a stranger calls at his door; Fang resolves to kill him. Naturally, there are several possible outcomes: Fang can kill the intruder, the intruder can kill Fang, they both can escape, they both can die, and so forth. In the work of Ts'ui Pen, all possible outcomes occur; each one is the point of departure for other forkings. Sometimes, the paths of this Labyrinth converge: for example, you arrive at this house, but in one of the possible pasts you are my enemy, in another, my friend. If you will resign yourself to my incurable pronunciation, we shall read a few pages."
  

The_Golden_Bough, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  THE READER may remember that we were led to plunge into the
  Labyrinth of magic by a consideration of two different types of
  man-god. This is the clue which has guided our devious steps through
  --
  Crete; but the common view appears to have been that they were shut
  up in the Labyrinth, there to be devoured by the Minotaur, or at
  least to be imprisoned for life. Perhaps they were sacrificed by
  --
  Among the Lhota Naga, one of the many savage tribes who inhabit the
  deep rugged Labyrinthine glens which wind into the mountains from
  the rich valley of Brahmapootra, it used to be a common custom to
  --
  method. Here at last, after groping about in the dark for countless
  ages, man has hit upon a clue to the Labyrinth, a golden key that
  opens many locks in the treasury of nature. It is probably not too

The_Immortal, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
    
    The City of the Immortals is an immense Labyrinth with dead-end passages, inverted stairways, and many chaotic architectural structures. Rufus, horrified and repulsed by the city, describes it as "a chaos of heterogeneous words, the body of a tiger or a bull in which teeth, organs and heads monstrously pullulate in mutual conjunction and hatred." He eventually escapes the city and finds the Troglodyte who followed him there waiting outside; he names him Argos (after the dog of Odysseus), and decides to teach him language. Soon after, though, Argos reveals that he is Homer, and that the Troglodytes are the Immortals, having destroyed the original City of the Immortals and (on the advice of Homer) replaced it with the Labyrinthine one Rufus encountered.
    
  --
  Subsequent events have so distorted the memory of our first days that now they are impossible to put straight. We set out from Arsino and entered the ardent desert. We crossed the lands of the Troglodytes, who devour serpents and lack all verbal commerce; the land of the Garamantas, whose women are held in common and whose food is lions; the land of the Augiles, who worship only Tartarus.
  We ranged the width and breadth of other deserts - deserts of black sand, where the traveler must usurp the hours of the night, for the fervency of the day is unbearable. From afar I made out the mountain which gives its name to the Ocean; on its slopes grows the euphorbia, an antidote to poisons, and on its peak live the Satyrs, a nation of wild and rustic men given to lasciviousness. That the bosom of those barbaric lands, where the Earth is the mother of monsters, might succor a famous city - such a thing seemed unthinkable to us all. Thus we continued with our march, for to have regressed would have been to dishonor ourselves. Some of the men, those who were most temerarious, slept with their faces exposed to the moon; soon they burned with fever. With the depraved water of the watering holes others drank up insanity and death. Then began the desertions; a short time afterward, the mutinies. In repressing them I did not hesitate to employ severity. In that I acted justly, but a centurion warned me that the mutineers (keen to avenge the crucifixion of one of their number) were weaving a plot for my death. I fled the camp with the few soldiers who were loyal to me; in the desert, among whirlwinds of sand and the vast night, we became separated. A Cretan arrow rent my flesh. For several days I wandered without finding water - or one huge day multiplied by the sun, thirst, and the fear of thirst. I left my path to the will of my horse. At dawn, the distance bristled with pyramids and towers. I dreamed, unbearably, of a small and orderly Labyrinth at whose center lay a well; my hands could almost touch it, my eyes see it, but so bewildering and entangled were the turns that I knew I would die before I reached it.
  II
  --
  I have said that the City was builded on a stone plateau. That plateau, with its precipitous sides, was as difficult to scale as the walls. In vain did my weary feet walk round it; the black foundation revealed not the slightest irregularity, and the invariance of the walls proscribed even a single door. The force of the day drove me to seek refuge in a cavern; toward the rear there was a pit, and out of the pit, out of the gloom below, rose a ladder. I descended the ladder and made my way through a chaos of squalid galleries to a vast, indistinct circular chamber. Nine doors opened into that cellar- like place; eight led to a maze that returned, deceitfully, to the same chamber; the ninth led through another maze to a second circular chamber identical to the first. I am not certain how many chambers there were; my misery and anxiety multiplied them. The silence was hostile, and virtually perfect; aside from a subterranean wind whose cause I never discovered, within those deep webs of stone there was no sound; even the thin streams of iron-colored water that trickled through crevices in the stone were noiseless. Horribly, I grew used to that dubious world; it began to seem incredible that anything could exist save nine-doored cellars and long, forking subterranean corridors. I know not how long I wandered under the earth; I do know that from time to time, in a confused dream of home, I conflated the horrendous village of the barbarians and the city of my birth, among the clusters of grapes.
  At the end of one corridor, a not unforeseen wall blocked my path - and a distant light fell upon me. I raised my dazzled eyes; above, vertiginously high above, I saw a circle of sky so blue it was almost purple. The metal treads of a stairway led up the wall. Weariness made my muscles slack, but I climbed the stairs, only pausing from time to time to sob clumsily with joy. Little by little I began to discern friezes and the capitals of columns, triangular pediments and vaults, confused glories carved in granite and marble. Thus it was that I was led to ascend from the blind realm of black and intertwining Labyrinths into the brilliant City.
  I emerged into a kind of small plaza - a courtyard might better describe it. It was surrounded by a single building, of irregular angles and varying heights. It was to this heterogeneous building that the many cupolas and columns belonged. More than any other feature of that incredible monument, I was arrested by the great antiquity of its construction. I felt that it had existed before humankind, before the world itself.
  Its patent antiquity (though somehow terrible to the eyes) seemed to accord with the labor of immortal artificers. Cautiously at first, with indifference as time went on, desperately toward the end, I wandered the staircases and inlaid floors of that Labyrinthine palace. (I discovered afterward that the width and height of the treads on the staircases were not constant; it was this that explained the extraordinary weariness I felt.) This palace is the work of the gods, was my first thought. I explored the uninhabited spaces, and I corrected myself: The gods that built this place have died. Then I reflected upon its peculiarities, and told myself: The gods that built this place were mad. I said this, I know, in a tone of incomprehensible reproof that verged upon remorse - with more intellectual horror than sensory fear.
  The impression of great antiquity was joined by others: the impression of endlessness, the sensation of oppressiveness and horror, the sensation of complex irrationality. I had made my way through a dark maze, but it was the bright City of the Immortals that terrified and repelled me. A maze is a house built purposely to confuse men; its architecture, prodigal in symmetries, is made to serve that purpose. In the palace that I imperfectly explored, the architecture had no purpose. There were corridors that led nowhere, unreachably high windows, grandly dramatic doors that opened onto monklike cells or empty shafts, incredible upside-down staircases with upside-down treads and balustrades. Other staircases, clinging airily to the side of a monumental wall, petered out after two or three landings, in the high gloom of the cupolas, arriving nowhere. I cannot say whether these are literal examples I have given; I do know that for many years they plagued my troubled dreams; I can no longer know whether any given feature is a faithful transcription of reality or one of the shapes unleashed by my nights. This City, I thought, is so horrific that its mere existence, the mere fact of its having endured - even in the middle of a secret desert - pollutes the past and the future and somehow compromises the stars. So long as this City endures, no one in the world can ever be happy or courageous. I do not want to describe it; a chaos of heterogeneous words, the body of a tiger or a bull pullulating with teeth, organs, and heads monstrously yoked together yet hating each other - those might, perhaps, be approximate images.
  I cannot recall the stages by which I returned, nor my path through the dusty, humid crypts. I know only that I was accompanied by the constant fear that when I emerged from the last Labyrinth I would be surrounded once again by the abominable City of the Immortals. I remember nothing else. That loss of memory, now insurmountable, was perhaps willful; it is possible that the circumstances of my escape were so unpleasant that on some day no less lost to memory I swore to put them out of my mind.
  III

The_Library_Of_Babel_2, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  of the letters M C V perversely repeated from the first line to the last. An
  other (much consulted in this zone) is a mere Labyrinth of letters whose
  'The original manuscript has neither numbers nor capital letters; punctuation is

The_Library_of_Babel, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  perversely repeated from the first line to the last. Another (very much consulted
  in this area) is a mere Labyrinth of letters, but the next-to-last page says Oh time
  thy pyramids. This much is already known: for every sensible line of

The_Logomachy_of_Zos, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  chaos with every kind of intrusive image, tumultuous, with surging
  crowds of vague familiars from the Labyrinth of mind. There are many
  other states of mind giving inspiration, often unexpected; as by the
  --
  No excogitation but instinctive guessing is still our best guide in the
  Labyrinths.
  When we appreciate vibrantly the vast significance of all creation,

The_Lottery_in_Babylon, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  Another source of restlessness abounded in the down-at-heel neighbourhoods. The members of the sacerdotal college multiplied the stakes and rejoiced in the full range of hope's and of terror's vicissitudes; the poor, with an understandable or inevitable envy, knew themselves to be excluded from these notoriously delightful ups and downs. Everyone, rich and poor alike, had a justified yearning to participate equally in the lottery, which inspired an indignant agitation whose memory the years have not erased. Certain obstinate souls did not comprehend, or pretended not to comprehend, that they were dealing with a new order, a necessary historical stage... A slave stole a crimson ticket, a ticket that in the next drawing merited his having his tongue burnt to a crisp. The criminal code fixed the same penalty for a ticket's theft. A number of Babylonians argued that he deserved the red-hot iron for his thieving; others, more magnanimous, that the public executioner should apply the lottery's penalty as chance had so determined...
  There were disturbances, there were lamentable effusions of blood; but the Babylonian people finally imposed their will and they achieved their generous ends against the opposition of the rich. Firstly, they forced the Company to assume full public power. (This unification was necessary given the vastness and complexity of the new operations.) Secondly, they made the lottery secret, general and free of charge. The mercenary sale of lots was abolished. Once initiated into the mysteries of Bel, all free men automatically took part in the sacred drawings of lots, all of which were held in the Labyrinths of the god every sixty nights and determined each man's destiny until the subsequent drawing. The consequences were incalculable. A happy drawing could instigate one's elevation to the council of magi or the imprisonment of an enemy (well-known or private) or, in the peaceful dark of one's room, one's meeting the woman who has begun to make one fluster or who one was never expecting to see again; an adverse drawing: mutilation, a variety of infamies, death. Sometimes a single event - C's assassination in a tavern, B's mysterious apotheosis - was the brilliant result of thirty or forty drawings. Combining bets was difficult; we must remember, though, that the individuals of the Company were (and are) all-powerful and astute. In many cases, the knowledge that certain joys were simple fabrications of chance would have diminished their moral worth; to avoid this inconvenience, agents of the Company made use of suggestion and magic. Their moves, their manipulations, were secret. To get at everybody's innermost hopes and fears, astrologers and spies were employed. There were certain stone lions, there was a sacred latrine called Qaphqa, there were fissures in a dusty aqueduct all of which, according to general opinion, led to the Company; persons malign or benevolent deposited exposs in these sites. An alphabetical archive collected these reports of varying veracity.
  Incredibly, grumbling abounded. The Company, with its habitual discretion, did not reply directly. It preferred to scribble in the rubble of a mask factory a short line of reasoning which now forms part of the sacred scriptures. This doctrinal piece observed that the lottery is an interpolation of chance into the order of the world and that the acceptance of errors is not the contradiction of chance, but its corroboration. It observed also that those lions and the sacred squatting place, although not disclaimed by the Company (which did not renounce the right to consult them), functioned without official guarantee.
  This declaration pacified the public's unease. It also had other effects, perhaps not foreseen by its author: it profoundly modified the spirit and the operations of the Company. There remains little time - we have been told that the ship is about to set sail - but I will try to explain.
  As improbable as it may seem, nobody until then had attempted to produce a general theory of games. The Babylonian is not speculative. He reveres the dictates of chance, surrendering his life, his hopes, his panicked terror to them, but it never occurs to him to delve into their Labyrinthine laws, nor the giratory spheres from which they are revealed. Nonetheless, the officious declaration that I have mentioned inspired many discussions of a juridico-mathematical nature. From one of them was born the following conjecture: if the lottery is an intensification of chance, its periodic infusion into the cosmos, would it not be desirable then for chance to intervene in all stages of the drawing and not only in one? Is it not ridiculous that chance should dictate that a person die while the circumstances of that death - its confidentiality, its publicity, its timing an hour or a century into the future - are not subject to chance? These eminently reasonable scruples prompted in the end a considerable reform whose complexities (aggravated by centuries of practice) are understood only by a handful of specialists; I will attempt to summarise them regardless, even though I do so only symbolically.
  Let us imagine a first drawing, one which condemns a man to death. In order for the sentence to be realised, another drawing is held that proposes, say, nine possible executioners. Of these nine, four might initiate a third drawing that will give the name of the eventual executioner, two might replace the drawing's adverse result with a fortunate one (say, a treasure's discovery), another might exacerbate the sentence of death (that is, a sentence made more infamous or embellished with torture), still others might refuse to carry it out...

The_Shadow_Out_Of_Time, #unset, #Rudolf Steiner, #Occultism
  Later in that year I spent weeks - alone beyond the limits of previous or subsequent
  exploration in the vast limestone cavern systems of western Virginia - black Labyrinths so
  complex that no retracing of my steps could even be considered.
  --
  fancied I could vaguely recognise lesser, archaic prototypes of many forms - dinosaurs,
  pterodactyls, ichthyosaurs, Labyrinthodonts, plesiosaurs, and the like-made familiar
  through palaeontology. Of birds or mammals there were none that I could discover.
  --
  had I come to know what I knew? And what awful reality could lie behind those antique
  tales of the beings who had dwelt in this Labyrinth of primordial stone?
  Words can convey only fractionally the welter of dread and bewilderment which ate at
  --
  Heaps of fallen cases were not uncommon, for all through the aeons this lightless
  Labyrinth had been racked by the heavings of earth and had echoed at intervals of the
  deafening clatter of toppling objects. It was only when I was nearly across the space that I

Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra_text, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
  if one is to love each other?
  I am your Labyrinth.
  The song is not reducible to a single level of meaning. The
  --
  dangerous life, of which I am most afraid: the life of
  wild animals, woods, caves, steep mountains, and Labyrinthian gorges. And it is not the leaders out of danger
  who appeal to you most, but those who induce you to

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