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

transmute ::: to change from one nature, substance, form, or condition into another; transform; convert. transmutes, transmuted, transmuting, transmutingly.

transmuted ::: changed from one form, nature, substance, or state into another; transformed.

transmuters ::: people or things which transmute.

transmuted ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Transmute

transmuter ::: n. --> One who transmutes.

transmute ::: v. t. --> To change from one nature, form, or substance, into another; to transform.

transmuted ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Transmute

transmuter ::: n. --> One who transmutes.

transmute ::: v. t. --> To change from one nature, form, or substance, into another; to transform.

transmute ::: to change from one nature, substance, form, or condition into another; transform; convert. transmutes, transmuted, transmuting, transmutingly.

transmuted ::: changed from one form, nature, substance, or state into another; transformed.

transmuters ::: people or things which transmute.

--- QUOTES [14 / 14 - 295 / 295] (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

KEYS (10k)

   10 Sri Aurobindo
   2 Manly P Hall
   1 The Mother
   1 Paramahansa Yogananda

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   10 Eckhart Tolle
   7 Charles Yu
   5 Thomas Pynchon
   5 Ta Nehisi Coates
   5 Suzy Kassem
   5 Miguel Serrano
   5 Manly P Hall
   5 Eric Hoffer
   4 Yaa Gyasi
   4 Samael Aun Weor
   4 Pearl S Buck
   4 E M Forster
   3 Richard Rohr
   3 Paramahansa Yogananda
   3 Napoleon Hill
   3 Muhammad Iqbal
   3 Marcel Proust
   3 Mahatma Gandhi
   3 Ian McEwan
   3 H P Lovecraft
   3 Henry Miller
   3 Dean Koontz
   3 Annalee Newitz
   2 Yu Hua
   2 Teju Cole
   2 Tana French
   2 Stacy Schiff
   2 Robertson Davies
   2 Robert Jackson Bennett
   2 Reinhold Niebuhr
   2 Orison Swett Marden
   2 Neil Gaiman
   2 Mircea Eliade
   2 Menna van Praag
   2 Manly Hall
   2 J Robert Oppenheimer
   2 James Thomas Fields
   2 Isaac Asimov
   2 Greg Egan
   2 Gilles Deleuze
   2 Friedrich Nietzsche
   2 Edith Hamilton
   2 Dawn Tripp
   2 Charles P Pierce
   2 Charles Baudelaire
   2 Bertrand Russell
   2 Barbara Deming
   2 Anonymous

1:Transmuted is ravishment’s minister,A high note and a fiery refrain. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems The Life Heavens,

2:Ideal dreams,Those intimate transmuters of earth’s signsThat make known things a hint of unseen spheres ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri 05.02 - Satyavan,

3:Man himself, who takes up all that went before him and transmutes it into the term of manhood. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Life Divine 2.03 - The Eternal and the Individual,

4:Kriya Yoga is a simple, psychophysiological method by which human blood is decarbonated and recharged with oxygen. The atoms of this extra oxygen are transmuted into life current to rejuvenate the brain and spinal centres. By stopping the accumulation of venous blood, the yogi is able to lessen or prevent the decay of tissues. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,

5:One alchemist announced that one grain of this powder would transmute into purest gold one hundred thousand times its own weight. But his readers did not realize that this powder is wisdom, one grain of which can transmute all the ignorance in the world. Nor did the reader properly understand that the PHILOSOPHER'S STONE IS KNOWLEDGE, the great miracle worker, or that the elixir of life was Truth, which makes all things new. It was sad that misunderstandings should exist, but wherever great truths are given to small minds, misunderstandings are inevitable. ~ Manly P Hall, (A Monthly Letter April 1937) ,

6:At her will the inscrutable Supermind leans downTo guide her force that feels but cannot know,Its breath of power controls her restless seasAnd life obeys the governing Idea.At her will, led by a luminous ImmanenceThe hazardous experimenting MindPushes its way through obscure possiblesMid chance formations of an unknowing world.Our human ignorance moves towards the TruthThat Nescience may become omniscient,Transmuted instincts shape to divine thoughts,Thoughts house infallible immortal sightAnd Nature climb towards God's identity.The Master of the worlds self-made her slaveIs the executor of her fantasies:She has canalised the seas of omnipotence;She has limited by her laws the Illimitable. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri 02.03 - The Glory and the Fall of Life,

7:THE TRUE STUDENT OF OCCULT SCIENCE The White Magician uses none of the powers of the animal world in his work, but rather seeks to transmute the poles of the beast within himself into higher and finer qualities. The White Magician labors entirely with the finer forces of the elemental planes. He is a builder--not a destroyer--and seeks to liberate rather than to dominate his fellow creatures. The White Magician has dedicated his soul to the immortal light, while the Black Magician has sold his for mortal glory. The Grimores of the Middle Ages are filled with chants and charms for the invoking of spirits. History is filled with stories of Black Magicians but the true student of occult science must have nothing to do with these things other than to protect himself against them. ~ Manly P Hall, Magic: A Treatise on Natural Occultism 2020-08-28,

8:In order to strengthen the higher knowledge-faculty in us we have to effect the same separation between the intuitive and intellectual elements of our thought as we have already effected between the understanding and the sense-mind; and this is no easy task, for not only do our intuitions come to us incrusted in the intellectual action, but there are a great number of mental workings which masquerade and ape the appearances of the higher faculty. The remedy is to train first the intellect to recognise the true intuilion, to distinguish it from the false and then to accustom it, when it arrives at an intellectual perception or conclusion, to attach no final value to it, but rather look upward, refer all to the divine principle and wait in as complete a silence as it can command for the light from above. In this way it is possible to transmute a great part of our intellectual thinking into the luminous truth-conscious vision, -- the ideal would be a complete transition, -- or at least to increase greatly the frequency, purity and conscious force of the ideal knowledge working behind the intellect. The latter must learn to be subject and passive to the ideal faculty. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga 2.03 - The Purified Understanding,

9:Many are God's forms by which he grows in man; They stamp his thoughts and deeds with divinity, Uplift the stature of the human clay Or slowly transmute it into heavens gold. He is the Good for which men fight and die, He is the war of Right with Titan wrong; He is Freedom rising deathless from her pyre; He is Valour guarding still the desperate pass Or lone and erect on the shattered barricade Or a sentinel in the dangerous echoing Night. He is the crown of the martyr burned in flame And the glad resignation of the saint And courage indifferent to the wounds of Time And the heros might wrestling with death and fate. He is Wisdom incarnate on a glorious throne And the calm autocracy of the sages rule. He is the high and solitary Thought Aloof above the ignorant multitude: He is the prophets voice, the sight of the seer. He is Beauty, nectar of the passionate soul, He is the Truth by which the spirit lives. He is the riches of the spiritual Vast Poured out in healing streams on indigent Life; He is Eternity lured from hour to hour, He is infinity in a little space: He is immortality in the arms of death. These powers I am and at my call they come. Thus slowly I lift mans soul nearer the Light. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri 07.04 - The Triple Soul-Forces,

10:There must be accepted and progressively accomplished a surrender of our capacities of working into the hands of a greater Power behind us and our sense of being the doer and worker must disappear. All must be given for a more direct use into the hands of the divine Will which is hidden by these frontal appearances; for by that permitting Will alone is our action possible. A hidden Power is the true Lord and overruling Observer of our acts and only he knows through all the ignorance and perversion and deformation brought in by the ego their entire sense and ultimate purpose. There must be effected a complete transformation of our limited and distorted egoistic life and works into the large and direct outpouring of a greater divine Life, Will and Energy that now secretly supports us. This greater Will and Energy must be made conscious in us and master; no longer must it remain, as now, only a superconscious, upholding and permitting Force. There must be achieved an undistorted transmission through us of the all-wise purpose and process of a now hidden omniscient Power and omnipotent Knowledge which will turn into its pure, unobstructed, happily consenting and participating channel all our transmuted nature. This total consecration and surrender and this resultant entire transformation and free transmission make up the whole fundamental means and the ultimate aim of an integral Karmayoga. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga The Yoga of Divine Works,

11:need for the soul's spiritualization ::: And yet even the leading of the inmost psychic being is not found sufficient until it has succeeded in raising itself out of this mass of inferior Nature to the highest spiritual levels and the divine spark and flame descended here have rejoined themselves to their original fiery Ether. For there is there no longer a spiritual consciousness still imperfect and half lost to itself in the thick sheaths of human mind, life and body, but the full spiritual consciousness in its purity, freedom and intense wideness. There, as it is the eternal Knower that becomes the Knower in us and mover and user of all knowledge, so it is the eternal All-Blissful who is the Adored attracting to himself the eternal divine portion of his being and joy that has gone out into the play of the universe, the infinite Lover pouring himself out in the multiplicity of his own manifested selves in a happy Oneness. All Beauty in the world is there the beauty of the Beloved, and all forms of beauty have to stand under the light of that eternal Beauty and submit themselves to the sublimating and transfiguring power of the unveiled Divine Perfection. All Bliss and Joy are there of the All-Blissful, and all inferior forms of enjoyment, happiness or pleasure are subjected to the shock of the intensity of its floods or currents and either they are broken to pieces as inadequate things under its convicting stress or compelled to transmute themselves into the forms of the Divine Ananda. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga The Ascent of the Sacrifice - 2,

12:Vijnana, true ideation, called ritam, truth or vedas, knowledge in the Vedas, acts in human mind by four separate functions; revelation, termed drishti, sight; inspiration termed sruti,hearing; and the two faculties of discernment, smriti, memory,which are intuition, termed ketu, and discrimination, termed daksha, division, or viveka, separation. By drishti we see ourselves the truth face to face, in its own form, nature or self-existence; by sruti we hear the name, sound or word by which the truth is expressed & immediately suggested to the knowledge; by ketu we distinguish a truth presented to us behind a veil whether of result or process, as Newton discovered the law of gravitation hidden behind the fall of the apple; by viveka we distinguish between various truths and are able to put them in their right place, order and relation to each other, or, if presented with mingled truth & error, separate the truth from the falsehood. Agni Jatavedas is termed in the Veda vivichi, he who has the viveka, who separates truth from falsehood; but this is only a special action of the fourth ideal faculty & in its wider scope, it is daksha, that which divides & rightly distributes truth in its multiform aspects. The ensemble of the four faculties is Vedas or divine knowledge. When man is rising out of the limited & error-besieged mental principle, the faculty most useful to him, most indispensable is daksha or viveka. Drishti of Vijnana transmuted into terms of mind has become observation, sruti appears as imagination, intuition as intelligent perception, viveka as reasoning & intellectual judgment and all of these are liable to the constant touch of error. Human buddhi, intellect, is a distorted shadow of the true ideative faculties. As we return from these shadows to their ideal substance viveka or daksha must be our constant companion; for viveka alone can get rid of the habit of mental error, prevent observation being replaced by false illumination, imagination by false inspiration, intelligence by false intuition, judgment & reason by false discernment. The first sign of human advance out of the anritam of mind to the ritam of the ideal faculty is the growing action of a luminous right discernment which fixes instantly on the truth, feels instantly the presence of error. The fullness, the manhana of this viveka is the foundation & safeguard of Ritam or Vedas. The first great movement of Agni Jatavedas is to transform by the divine will in mental activity his lower smoke-covered activity into the bright clearness & fullness of the ideal discernment. Agne adbhuta kratw a dakshasya manhana. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Hymns To The Mystic Fire 717,

13:[desire and its divine form:] Into all our endeavour upward the lower element of desire will at first naturally enter. For what the enlightened will sees as the thing to be done and pursues as the crown to be conquered, what the heart embraces as the one thing delightful, that in us which feels itself limited and opposed and, because it is limited, craves and struggles, will seek with the troubled passion of an egoistic desire. This craving life-force or desire-soul in us has to be accepted at first, but only in order that it may be transformed. Even from the very beginning it has to be taught to renounce all other desires and concentrate itself on the passion for the Divine. This capital point gained, it has to be aught to desire, not for its own separate sake, but for God in the world and for the Divine in ourselves; it has to fix itself upon no personal spiritual gain, though of all possible spiritual gains we are sure, but on the great work to be done in us and others, on the high coming manifestation which is to be the glorious fulfilment of the Divine in the world, on the Truth that has to be sought and lived and enthroned for eveR But last, most difficult for it, more difficult than to seek with the right object, it has to be taught to seek in the right manner; for it must learn to desire, not in its own egoistic way, but in the way of the Divine. It must insist no longer, as the strong separative will always insists, on its own manner of fulfilment, its own dream of possession, its own idea of the right and the desirable; it must yearn to fulfil a larger and greater Will and consent to wait upon a less interested and ignorant guidance. Thus trained, Desire, that great unquiet harasser and troubler of man and cause of every kind of stumbling, will become fit to be transformed into its divine counterpart. For desire and passion too have their divine forms; there is a pure ecstasy of the soul's seeking beyond all craving and grief, there is a Will of Ananda that sits glorified in the possession of the supreme beatitudes. When once the object of concentration has possessed and is possessed by the three master instruments, the thought, the heart and the will,-a consummation fully possible only when the desire-soul in us has submitted to the Divine Law,-the perfection of mind and life and body can be effectively fulfilled in our transmuted nature. This will be done, not for the personal satisfaction of the ego, but that the whole may constitute a fit temple for the Divine Presence, a faultless instrument for the divine work. For that work can be truly performed only when the instrument, consecrated and perfected, has grown fit for a selfless action,-and that will be when personal desire and egoism are abolished, but not the liberated individual. Even when the little ego has been abolished, the true spiritual Person can still remain and God's will and work and delight in him and the spiritual use of his perfection and fulfilment. Our works will then be divine and done divinely; our mind and life and will, devoted to the Divine, will be used to help fulfil in others and in the world that which has been first realised in ourselves,- all that we can manifest of the embodied Unity, Love, Freedom, Strength, Power, Splendour, immortal Joy which is the goal of the Spirit's terrestrial adventure. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga Self-Consecration [83],

14:The Two Paths Of Yoga ::: 14 April 1929 - What are the dangers of Yoga? Is it especially dangerous to the people of the West? Someone has said that Yoga may be suitable for the East, but it has the effect of unbalancing the Western mind. Yoga is not more dangerous to the people of the West than to those of the East. Everything depends upon the spirit with which you approach it. Yoga does become dangerous if you want it for your own sake, to serve a personal end. It is not dangerous, on the contrary, it is safety and security itself, if you go to it with a sense of its sacredness, always remembering that the aim is to find the Divine. Dangers and difficulties come in when people take up Yoga not for the sake of the Divine, but because they want to acquire power and under the guise of Yoga seek to satisfy some ambition. if you cannot get rid of ambition, do not touch the thing. It is fire that burns. There are two paths of Yoga, one of tapasya (discipline), and the other of surrender. The path of tapasya is arduous. Here you rely solely upon yourself, you proceed by your own strength. You ascend and achieve according to the measure of your force. There is always the danger of falling down. And once you fall, you lie broken in the abyss and there is hardly a remedy. The other path, the path of surrender, is safe and sure. It is here, however, that the Western people find their difficulty. They have been taught to fear and avoid all that threatens their personal independence. They have imbibed with their mothers' milk the sense of individuality. And surrender means giving up all that. In other words, you may follow, as Ramakrishna says, either the path of the baby monkey or that of the baby cat. The baby monkey holds to its mother in order to be carried about and it must hold firm, otherwise if it loses its grip, it falls. On the other hand, the baby cat does not hold to its mother, but is held by the mother and has no fear nor responsibility; it has nothing to do but to let the mother hold it and cry ma ma. If you take up this path of surrender fully and sincerely, there is no more danger or serious difficulty. The question is to be sincere. If you are not sincere, do not begin Yoga. If you were dealing in human affairs, then you could resort to deception; but in dealing with the Divine there is no possibility of deception anywhere. You can go on the Path safely when you are candid and open to the core and when your only end is to realise and attain the Divine and to be moved by the Divine. There is another danger; it is in connection with the sex impulses. Yoga in its process of purification will lay bare and throw up all hidden impulses and desires in you. And you must learn not to hide things nor leave them aside, you have to face them and conquer and remould them. The first effect of Yoga, however, is to take away the mental control, and the hungers that lie dormant are suddenly set free, they rush up and invade the being. So long as this mental control has not been replaced by the Divine control, there is a period of transition when your sincerity and surrender will be put to the test. The strength of such impulses as those of sex lies usually in the fact that people take too much notice of them; they protest too vehemently and endeavour to control them by coercion, hold them within and sit upon them. But the more you think of a thing and say, "I don't want it, I don't want it", the more you are bound to it. What you should do is to keep the thing away from you, to dissociate from it, take as little notice of it as possible and, even if you happen to think of it, remain indifferent and unconcerned. The impulses and desires that come up by the pressure of Yoga should be faced in a spirit of detachment and serenity, as something foreign to yourself or belonging to the outside world. They should be offered to the Divine, so that the Divine may take them up and transmute them. If you have once opened yourself to the Divine, if the power of the Divine has once come down into you and yet you try to keep to the old forces, you prepare troubles and difficulties and dangers for yourself. You must be vigilant and see that you do not use the Divine as a cloak for the satisfaction of your desires. There are many self-appointed Masters, who do nothing but that. And then when you are off the straight path and when you have a little knowledge and not much power, it happens that you are seized by beings or entities of a certain type, you become blind instruments in their hands and are devoured by them in the end. Wherever there is pretence, there is danger; you cannot deceive God. Do you come to God saying, "I want union with you" and in your heart meaning "I want powers and enjoyments"? Beware! You are heading straight towards the brink of the precipice. And yet it is so easy to avoid all catastrophe. Become like a child, give yourself up to the Mother, let her carry you, and there is no more danger for you. This does not mean that you have not to face other kinds of difficulties or that you have not to fight and conquer any obstacles at all. Surrender does not ensure a smooth and unruffled and continuous progression. The reason is that your being is not yet one, nor your surrender absolute and complete. Only a part of you surrenders; and today it is one part and the next day it is another. The whole purpose of the Yoga is to gather all the divergent parts together and forge them into an undivided unity. Till then you cannot hope to be without difficulties - difficulties, for example, like doubt or depression or hesitation. The whole world is full of the poison. You take it in with every breath. If you exchange a few words with an undesirable man or even if such a man merely passes by you, you may catch the contagion from him. It is sufficient for you to come near a place where there is plague in order to be infected with its poison; you need not know at all that it is there. You can lose in a few minutes what it has taken you months to gain. So long as you belong to humanity and so long as you lead the ordinary life, it does not matter much if you mix with the people of the world; but if you want the divine life, you will have to be exceedingly careful about your company and your environment. ~ The Mother, Questions And Answers 1929-1931 ,

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill. ~ Samuel Johnson,

2:Love transmutes all to celestial light. - ~ Jalaluddin Rumi #love,

3:Almost anything at all can be transmuted into a labyrinth. ~ Harold Bloom,

4:Nul ne peut transmuter la matière s'il ne s'est transmuté lui même. ~ Paracelse,

5:Writing is not an end in itself but life transmuted into radiance. ~ Brooks Atkinson,

6:Many a prophecy, by the mere force of its being believed, is transmuted to fact. ~ Isaac Asimov,

7:The function of a nutrient is to become transmuted, not to leave unaltered traces. ~ Idries Shah,

8:You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. ~ E M Forster,

9:America teaches its children that every passion can be transmuted into an occasion to buy. ~ John Updike,

10:It's too sad to live eating theories. The best thing is to transmute wisdom into love. ~ Samael Aun Weor,

11:Humanity's story must be one of constant change because that is one way to transmute hope. ~ Annalee Newitz,

12:IDEAS CAN BE TRANSMUTED INTO CASH THROUGH THE POWER OF DEFINITE PURPOSE, PLUS DEFINITE PLANS. ~ Napoleon Hill,

13:Suffering cheerfully endured, ceases to be suffering and is transmuted into an ineffable joy. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

14:A child is not frightened at the thought of being patiently transmuted into an old man. ~ Antoine de Saint Exupery,

15:Thought, backed by strong desire, has a tendency to transmute itself into its physical equivalent. ~ Napoleon Hill,

16:his fucking an alchemy that transmuted my days-long torment into a bliss I could’ve never imagined. ~ Sierra Simone,

17:...Moonlight possesses no alchemy to transmute good motives to base, but it does excite love magic... ~ John Geddes,

18:Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives. ~ William Wordsworth,

19:Humanity's story must be one of constant change because that is one way to transmute pain into hope. ~ Annalee Newitz,

20:Humanity's story must be one of constant change because that is the way to transmute pain into hope. ~ Annalee Newitz,

21:Courtesy gives its owner a passport round the world. It transmutes aliens into trusting friends. ~ James Thomas Fields,

22:It is a distinctive American genius, this ability to transmute subversion into a marketable commodity. ~ George F Will,

23:Some form of self-discipline is necessary to transmute material desires into spiritual aspirations. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,

24:Give me today, for once, the worst throw of your dice, destiny. Today I transmute everything into gold. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

25:If you find yourself focusing on negative scenarios, ask us angels to transmute this fearful energy into love. ~ Doreen Virtue,

26:Become an alchemist. Transmute base metal into gold, suffering into consciousness, disaster into enlightenment. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

27:In a sense the secret of alchemy is to imagine a world in which it is possible to transmute base metal to gold. ~ Patrick Harpur,

28:"Become an alchemist. Transmute base metal into gold, suffering into consciousness, disaster into enlightenment." ~ Eckhart Tolle,

29:There’s nothing mysterious about Cosmic Ordering, it’s simply a method used to transmute thought into reality. ~ Stephen Richards,

30:"Become an alchemist. Transmute base metal into gold, suffering into consciousness, disaster into enlightenment." ~ Eckhart Tolle ~,

31:Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it’s sated, it transmutes. If we receive golden thread, we desire the golden needle. ~ Holly Black,

32:The way to transmute your iron duty into gold in everyone's eyes is this: always deliver more than you promise. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

33:One of the extraordinary adaptive powers of our species is its ability to transmute a stray encounter into a first chapter. ~ Joe Hill,

34:There is probably nothing more sublime than discontent transmuted into a work of art, a scientific discovery, and so on. ~ Eric Hoffer,

35:We have achieved two of the three alchemists' dreams: We have transmuted the elements and learned to fly. Immortality is next. ~ Max More,

36:the unconscious of an artist is her greatest treasure. It is what transmutes the dross of autobiography into the gold of myth. ~ Erica Jong,

37:We should see money in terms of the expenditure of energy and how we are going to transmute that energy into a proper use. ~ Chogyam Trungpa,

38:if people believe this, they would act on that belief. Many a prophecy, by the mere force of its being believed, is transmuted ~ Isaac Asimov,

39:AA is no success story in the ordinary sense of the word. It is a story of suffering transmuted, under grace, into spiritual progress. ~ Bill W,

40:A man's soul is pierced as it were with holes, and as his longings flow through each they are transmuted into something specific. ~ Eric Hoffer,

41:The banality of evil transmutes into the banality of sentimentality. The world is nothing but a problem to be solved by enthusiasm. ~ Teju Cole,

42:None but a poet can write a tragedy. For tragedy is nothing less than pain transmuted into exaltation by the alchemy of poetry. ~ Edith Hamilton,

43:The heart unites whatever the mind separates, pushes on beyond the arena of necessity and transmutes the struggle into love. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,

44:Evil begets evil. It grows. It transmutes, so that sometimes you cannot see that the evil in the world began as the evil in your own home. ~ Yaa Gyasi,

45:Evil begets evil. It grows. It transmutes, so that sometimes you cannot see that the evil in the world began as the evil in your own home. I ~ Yaa Gyasi,

46:War is pillage versus resistance and if illusions of magnitude could be transmuted into ideals of magnanimity, peace might be realized. ~ Marianne Moore,

47:One who transmuted things from formlessness and shapelessness into that-which-was-not-real, but without which the real would have no meaning ~ Neil Gaiman,

48:We need to transmute the lead of personality into the gold of the Spirit. This work is only possible in the laboratory of the Alchemist. ~ Samael Aun Weor,

49:When we have made an experience or a chaos into a story we have transformed it, made sense of it, transmuted experience, domesticated the chaos. ~ Ben Okri,

50:In spite of all the farmer's work and worry, he can't reach down to where the seed is slowly transmuted into summer. The earth bestows. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke,

51:The purpose of architecture is to transmute the emptiness into space, that is into something which our minds can grasp as an organized unity. ~ El Lissitzky,

52:The alchemist of the West has turned stone into glass But my alchemy has transmuted glass into flint Pharaohs of today have stalked me in vain ~ Muhammad Iqbal,

53:She nonetheless survives as a wanton temptress, not the last time a genuinely powerful woman has been transmuted into a shamelessly seductive one. ~ Stacy Schiff,

54:Transcendence transfigures; it does not reconcile, but rather transmutes opposites into something surpassing them that effaces their oppositions. ~ Sri Aurobindo,

55:There is perhaps no better way of measuring the natural endowment of a soul than by its ability to transmute dissatisfaction into a creative impulse. ~ Eric Hoffer,

56:You cannot ... transmute some incoherent mixture of words into sense merely by introducing the three-letter word "God" to be its grammatical subject. ~ Antony Flew,

57:The alchemist of the West has turned stone into glass But my alchemy has transmuted glass into flint Pharaohs of today have stalked me in vain ~ Muhammad Iqbal,

58:I am Gravity, I am That against which the Rocket must struggle, to which the pre-historic wastes submit and are transmuted to the very substance of History. ~ Thomas Pynchon,

59:Base metals can be transmuted into gold by stars, and by intelligent beings who understand the processes that power stars, but by nothing else in the universe. ~ David Deutsch,

60:Corporations took our innate impulse toward dissent and our desire for meaningful change, and transmuted them into effective sales tools for their products. ~ Daniel Pinchbeck,

61:from that moment on art would become this for me—singular, indissoluble—the one thing that could rein in the chaos and fear to transmute an untenable world to some ~ Dawn Tripp,

62:The celibate man must stand firm in chastity until his wife arrives, and it is not possible to do so when he does not know how to transmute his sexual energy. ~ Samael Aun Weor,

63:The most important lesson that man can learn from life, is not that there is pain in this world, but that it is possible for him to transmute it into joy. ~ Rabindranath Tagore,

64:The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute. ~ Omar Khayyam,

65:Just try to love, and manifest it. When your heart is open, there is this energy of love that flows in, fulfills everything and somehow transmutes itself into actions. ~ Paulo Coelho,

66:The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute. ~ Omar Khayy m,

67:The fancy that sensations are symbols and not realities hovered in his mind, and led him to speculate as to whether they could not actually be transmuted one into another. ~ Arthur Machen,

68:The performances in the future would be like an audience wired to somebody who was sort of instigating, and then moment-to-moment creation would be transmuted individually. ~ Jerry Garcia,

69:That one step is called surrender. I do not mean to say that you will become happy in such a situation. You will not. But fear and pain will become transmuted into inner peace. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

70:How sad if we allow our hearts to wane And obscure our joy with enduring pain While all things, good or bad, indisputably go by Like morning that transmutes in evening sky ~ Joan Marques,

71:It is the great work of nature to transmute sunlight into life. So it is the great end of Christian living to transmute the light of truth into the fruits of holy living. ~ Adoniram Judson Gordon,

72:On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty, Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until He turns to vapor what was once our will: Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy. ~ Charles Baudelaire,

73:Evil exists to glorify the good. Evil is negative good. It is a relative term. Evil can be transmuted into good. What is evil to one at one time, becomes good at another time to somebody else. ~ Mencius,

74:You know how it is—you grow up with a story all your life, it can transmute into something you neither question nor particularly value. It’s why we have such bad luck learning from mistakes. ~ Leif Enger,

75:Deep unconsciousness, such as the pain-body, or other deep pain, such as the loss of a loved one, usually needs to be transmuted through acceptance combined with the light of your presence — ~ Eckhart Tolle,

76:He described cities of ice floating in the polar ocean, leaps of death from high places and persons who could leave their earthly bodies at night, transmute into mosquitoes and annoy their neighbors... ~ Annie Proulx,

77:Our task, of course, is to transmute the anger that is affliction into the anger that is determination to bring about change. I think, in fact, that one could give that as a definition of revolution. ~ Barbara Deming,

78:The truths of life are not discovered by us. At moments unforeseen, some gracious influence descends upon the soul, touching it to an emotion which, we know not how, the mind transmutes into thought. ~ George Gissing,

79:If you wish to assured of the truth of Christianity, try it. Believe, and if thy belief be right, that insight which gradually transmutes faith into knowledge will be the reward of thy belief. ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge,

80:victimhood was seductive, a release from responsibility and caring: Fear would be transmuted into weary resignation; failure would no longer generate guilt but, instead, would spawn a comforting self-pity. ~ Dean Koontz,

81:For the dead, who seem to take away so much, really take with them nothing that is ours. The passion they have aroused lives after them, easy to transmute or to transfer, but well-nigh impossible to destroy. ~ E M Forster,

82:from that moment on art would become this for me—singular, indissoluble—the one thing that could rein in the chaos and fear to transmute an untenable world to some form of beauty even as that world fell away. ~ Dawn Tripp,

83:I am but as the spark that gleams for a moment, His burning candle consumed me - the moth; His wine overwhelmed my goblet, The master of Rum transmuted my earth to gold And set my ashes aflame. ~ Muhammad Iqbal,

84:But victimhood was seductive, a release from responsibility and caring: Fear would be transmuted into weary resignation; failure would no longer generate guilt but, instead, would spawn a comforting self-pity. ~ Dean Koontz,

85:But victimhood was seductive, a release from responsibility and caring. Fear would be transmuted into weary resignation; failure would no longer generate guilt but, instead, would spawn a comforting self-pity. ~ Dean Koontz,

86:Buddhist discipline is designed to transmute trishna, or egoic narcissism, into Karuna, Divine Narcissism; that is, to transmute self-love, which excludes love of others, into Self-love, which is love of others. ~ Ken Wilber,

87:It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal. ~ E M Forster,

88:It isn’t possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal. ~ E M Forster,

89:Keats, it must be remembered, was a sensualist. His poems ... reveal him as a man not altogether free from the vulgarities of sensualism, as well as one who was able to transmute it into perfect literature. ~ Robert Wilson Lynd,

90:What accumulated knowledge exists in low grade societies is at least put into practice; it is transmuted into character; it exists with the depth of meaning that attaches to its coming within urgent daily interests. ~ John Dewey,

91:In his family the dead were much discussed. He absorbed the content of these conversations and transmuted them into what passed for memory. This serves the purpose. The dead don't come back, to quibble or correct. ~ Hilary Mantel,

92:Like the weather or bonds between lovers, transformations can never be predicted. All energy transmutes one day or another, in one way or another. Either in its form or composition, or in its position or disposition. ~ Suzy Kassem,

93:The way to transmute the pain of life is to reveal the wounded side of things, evil, even, and then place the wound inside of sacred space. The Bible is about naming, facing, and then forgiving the wounds of history. ~ Richard Rohr,

94:Q’eeng had just attempted in the third dialect the traditional rightward schism greeting of “I offer you the bread of life,” but his phrasing and accent had transmuted the statement into “Let us violate cakes together. ~ John Scalzi,

95:can’t explain the alchemy that transmuted one evening into the equivalent of years held lightly in common. The only way I can put it is that we recognized, too surely even for surprise, that we shared the same currency. ~ Tana French,

96:Like the weather or bonds between lovers, transformations cannot always be predicted. All energy transmutes one day or another, in one way or another. Either in its form or composition, or in its position or disposition. ~ Suzy Kassem,

97:I can't explain the alchemy that transmuted one evening into the equivalent of years held lightly in common. The only way I can put it is that we recognized, too surely even for surprise, that we shared the same currency. ~ Tana French,

98:I have learnt through bitter experience the one supreme lesson to conserve my anger, and as heat conserved is transmuted into energy, even so our anger controlled can be transmuted into a power which can move the world. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

99:So long as there is death there will be sorrow, and so long as there is sorrow it can be no part of the duty of human beings to increase its amount, in spite of the fact that a few rare spirits know how to transmute it. ~ Bertrand Russell,

100:Like the weather or bonds between lovers, transformations can never be predicted. All energy transmutes one day or another, in one way or another. Either in its form or composition. Or in its position or disposition. ~ Suzy Kassem,

101:The magnificence of such objects hardly pertains to the human. They live only in a world of icons and there they participate in rituals which transmute life itself to a series of grand gestures, as moving as they are absurd. ~ Angela Carter,

102:By beginning a diary, I was already conceding that life would be more bearable if I looked at it as an adventure and a tale. I was telling myself the story of a life, and this transmutes into an adventure the things which can shatter you. ~ Ana s Nin,

103:The word which gives the key to the national vice is waste. And people who are wasteful are not wise, neither can they remain young and vigorous. In order to transmute energy to higher and more subtle levels one must first conserve it. ~ Henry Miller,

104:For those to whom a stone reveals itself as sacred, its immediate reality is transmuted into supernatural reality. In other words, for those who have a religious experience all nature is capable of revealing itself as cosmic sacrality. ~ Mircea Eliade,

105:When he tells Lucy Honeychurch “You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you” – isn’t that wonderful? I think that’s how you know if it’s true love or not. It is if it stays with you for the rest ~ Menna van Praag,

106:The real jewel of my disease-ridden woodlot is the prothonotary warbler. ... The flash of his gold-and-blue plumage amid the dank decay of the June woods is in itself proof that dead trees are transmuted into living animals, and vice versa. ~ Aldo Leopold,

107:He felt her heart beating against his chest. The moment began to transmute, and he wondered if there was something he should do. He wondered if he should kiss her. He wondered if he wanted to kiss her, and he realized that he truly didn't know. ~ Neil Gaiman,

108:the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century wars were “the crucible in which some of the competing forces from an earlier age were consumed in the fire and others blended and transmuted into new compounds … the matrix of all that came after.”109 ~ Karen Armstrong,

109:Endurance is only the beginning. There must be acceptance and the knowledge that sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is an alchemy to sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness. ~ Pearl S Buck,

110:The celibate must firmly keep himself in Brahma Charya (i.e. chastity) until his wife arrives, he has to firmly establish himself in Brahma Charya and it is not possible to remain in Brahma Charya if we do not know how to transmute the sexual energy. ~ Samael Aun Weor,

111:Perfect alchemists I keep who can transmute substances without end, and thus the corner of my garden is an inexhaustible treasure-chest. Here you can dig, not gold, but the value which gold merely represents; and there is no Signor Blitz about it. ~ Henry David Thoreau,

112:[The fine structure constant] ... defines how firmly atomic nuclei bind together and how all the atoms on Earth were made. Its value controls the power from the Sun and, more sensitively, how stars transmute hydrogen into all the atoms of the periodic table. ~ Martin J Rees,

113:If the philosophy of Christianity were lived, wars would cease, unhappiness would cease, economic problems would be solved, poverty would be wiped from the face of the earth, and man's inhumanity to man would be transmuted into a spirit of mutual helpfulness. ~ Ernest Holmes,

114:In the final analysis, the questions of why bad things happen to good people transmutes itself into some very different questions, no longer asking why something happened, but asking how we will respond, what we intend to do now that it happened. ~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin,

115:The crews, the young men who’d transmuted their fear into rage, were the greatest danger. The crews walked the blocks of their neighborhood, loud and rude, because it was only through their loud rudeness that they might feel any sense of security and power. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,

116:The essential part of our being can only survive if the transient part dissolves. Death is a condition of survival. That which has been gained must be eternalized, and can only be eternalized by being transmuted, by passing through death they must return ~ Vilayat Inayat Khan,

117:What I know now, my son: Evil begets evil. It grows. It transmutes, so that sometimes you cannot see that the evil in the world began as the evil in your own home. I’m sorry you have suffered. I’m sorry for the way your suffering casts a shadow over your life, over ~ Yaa Gyasi,

118:He was a boy born to be quite wicked who was being very good and he carried his wickedness around with him transmuted into a sort of teasing gaiety. But he was a bad boy and the others knew it and he knew it. He was just being good while his badness grew inside him. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

119:The greatest trouble with most of us is that our demands upon ourselves are so feeble, the call upon the great within of us so weak and intermittent that it makes no impression upon the creative energies; it lacks the force that transmutes desires into realities. ~ Orison Swett Marden,

120:How sweet and gracious, even in common speech, Is that fine sense which men call Courtesy! Wholesome as air and genial as the light, Welcome in every clime as breath of flowers, It transmutes aliens into trusting friends, And gives its owner passport round the globe. ~ James Thomas Fields,

121:I saw the misadjusted dials and the whirling gauges and the bubbling green fluid and the electricity arcing around, and a story laid out for me, my sorry self alchemically transmuted into power and robots and fortresses and orbital platforms and costumes and alien kings. ~ Austin Grossman,

122:All history teaches us that these questions that we think the pressing ones will be transmuted before they are answered, that they will be replaced by others, and that the very process of discovery will shatter the concepts that we today use to describe our puzzlement. ~ J Robert Oppenheimer,

123:Archimedes taught that of all the five elements, quintessence is the most rare, the most valuable, the one that transmutes the ordinary into the extraordinary. We are quintessence. It's a divine gift, and like all gifts, we must use it for the Library's greater glory. ~ Rachel Caine,

124:The life of a soul does not consist in the contemplation of one consistent world but in the painful task of unifying . . . jarring and incompatible ones, and passing, when possible, from two or more discordant viewpoints to a higher which shall somehow include and transmute them. ~ T S Eliot,

125:In recent weeks, in true messianic style, it has come clear to her that her real identity is literally, the force of gravity. I am Gravity, I am That against which the Rocket must struggle, to which prehistoric wastes submit and are transmuted to the very substance of History. ~ Thomas Pynchon,

126:Almost everyone has an inborn need to create; in most people this is thwarted and forgotten, and the drive is pushed into other activities that are less threatening, less difficult, and less rewarding. In some people, that need to create is transmuted into the need to destroy. ~ Marcus Sedgwick,

127:Cubism had been an analysis of the object and an attempt to put it before us in its totality; both as analysis and as synthesis, it was a criticism of appearance. Surrealism transmuted the object, and suddenly a canvas became an apparition: a new figuration, a real transfiguration. ~ Octavio Paz,

128:Endurance: It is the spirit which can bear things, not simply with resignation, but with blazing hope. It is the quality which keeps a man on his feet with his face to the wind. It is the virtue which can transmute the hardest trial into glory because beyond the pain it sees the goal. ~ Anonymous,

129:In recent weeks, in true messianic style, it has come clear to her that her real identity is literally, the force of gravity. I am Gravity, I am That against which the Rocket must struggle, to which prehistoric wastes submit and are transmuted to the very substance of History. ~ Thomas Pynchon,

130:We have been so long in a downward spin, the angels are calling us up. We are meant to fly and with our spirits we can. We are meant to ascend, to transmute the negative mass of the worlds corrupted thought forms. No one asked us to stay so long away from heaven, away from joy. ~ Marianne Williamson,

131:If you have life-centered, present-moment awareness, then the imaginary obstacles — which are more than ninety percent of perceived obstacles — disintegrate and disappear. The remaining five to ten percent of perceived obstacles can be transmuted into opportunities through one-pointed ~ Deepak Chopra,

132:Hieroglyphics had covered the walls and pillars, and from some undetermined point below had come a voice that was not a voice; a chaotic sensation which only fancy could transmute into sound, but which he attempted to render by the almost unpronounceable jumble of letters, “Cthulhu fhtagn”. ~ H P Lovecraft,

133:I have seen white settlers in Africa who had sworn that they would never sit down to table with those "smelly blacks" sit down quite happily with half-nude tribesmen once a country achieves independence. It is the context of power which changes behavior and transmutes antipathy into sympathy. ~ Lewis Nkosi,

134:A city that is of one man only is no city, says Haemon in Sophocles' 'Antigone.' Only where differences are valued and opposition tolerated can be transmuted into dialectic: so in its internal economy the city is a place-to twist Blake's dictum-that depresses corporeal and promotes mental war. ~ Lewis Mumford,

135:A Paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wondered if they might be used-metaphorically, of course-to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute it into being? ~ Margaret Atwood,

136:The Transmuters had built a structure that dwarfed universes, but touched each one only lightly. They hadn’t turned whole worlds to rubble, they hadn’t reshaped galaxies in their image. Having evolved on some distant, finite world, they’d inherited the most valuable survival trait of all. Restraint. ~ Greg Egan,

137:The void holds a form of energy moving at an inconceivably high rate of vibration, and that void is filled with a form of power/energy which adapts itself to the nature of the thoughts we hold in our minds; and influences us, in natural ways, to transmute our thoughts into their physical equivalent. ~ Napoleon Hill,

138:Wisdom is a condition of consciousness rather than an attitude of mind. Wisdom is that state of being in which an individual finds himself when realization has tinctured and transmuted all attitudes and opinions. A wise man is one who has experienced wisdom, wisdom in this sense being a mystical experience. ~ Manly Hall,

139:In order for music to free itself, it will have to pass over to the other side - there where territories tremble, where the structures collapse, where the ethoses get mixed up, where a powerful song of the earth is unleashed, the great ritornelles that transmutes all the airs it carries away and makes return. ~ Gilles Deleuze,

140:There is something to the fact that when you're on stage or when you're playing someone else, you're able to transmute all the things inside you that maybe get a bit blocked by the wall of shyness, or the wall of anxiety, or [by] overthinking. They sort of fall away in that moment and channeled into something else. ~ Emma Stone,

141:Australasian's custom of speaking of England as "home." It was always pretty to hear it, and often it was said in an unconsciously caressing way that made it touching; in a way which transmuted a sentiment into an embodiment, and made one seem to see Australasia as a young girl stroking mother England's old gray head. ~ Mark Twain,

142:Daedalus did not long outlive his son. His limbs turned gray and nerveless, and all his strength was transmuted into smoke. I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me. ~ Madeline Miller,

143:What I know now, my son: Evil begets evil. It grows. It transmutes, so that sometimes you cannot see that the evil in the world began as the evil in your own home. I'm sorry you have suffered. I'm sorry for the way your suffering casts a shadow over your life, over the woman you have yet to marry, the children you have yet to have. ~ Yaa Gyasi,

144:If some lurking desires are still there, and the body is getting old and the body is not capable of fulfilling those desires, don’t be worried. Meditate over those desires, watch, be aware. Just by being aware and watchful and alert, those desires and the energy contained in them can be transmuted. But before death comes, be free of all d ~ Osho,

145:Off the street. Out of the wind. Into a bar . . . like a million other bars . . . bottles of lies to ease pain . . . dollar bills traded to dose the dreams of hungry eyes . . . men transmuted from dust . . . women knitted from dead tomorrows, legs crossed, the language of their painted smiles ready to find the other side open . . . ~ Joseph S Pulver Sr,

146:Together we are learning to move from raw emotion and frozen muscles into a flow which emerges deep from within. We are learning to dance our prayers, bleed our words onto the page, laugh our images onto canvas, build our dreams in the world – to transmute and transmit the energy of the Feminine through our bodies and out into the world. ~ Lucy H Pearce,

147:Kriya Yoga is a simple, psychophysiological method by which human blood is decarbonated and recharged with oxygen. The atoms of this extra oxygen are transmuted into life current to rejuvenate the brain and spinal centres. By stopping the accumulation of venous blood, the yogi is able to lessen or prevent the decay of tissues. The ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,

148:As its best, SF is the medium in which our miserable certainty that tomorrow will be different from today in ways we cant predict, can be transmuted to a sense of excitement and anticipation, occasionally evolving into awe. Poised between intransigent scepticism and uncritical credulity, it is par excellence the literature of the open mind. ~ John Brunner,

149:The primary weakness of conservatism is that, relying as it does on the Burkean presumption that society is the way it is for a reason, it can refuse too steadfastly to adapt to emerging social and economic realities and it is apt to transmute solutions that were the utilitarian product of a particular time into articles of high principle. ~ Charles C W Cooke,

150:The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. ~ Ray Bradbury,

151:Jesmyn Ward is an alchemist. She transmutes pain and loss into gold. Men We Reaped illustrates hardships but thankfully, vitally, it's just as clear about the humor, the intelligence, the tenderness, the brilliance of the folks in DeLisle, Mississippi. A community that's usually wiped off the literary map can't be erased when it's in a book this good. ~ Victor LaValle,

152:Since the survival impulse in nature is transmuted into two different and contradictory spiritualized forms, which we may briefly designate as the will-to-live-truly and the will-to-power, man is at variance with himself. The power of the second impulse places him more fundamentally in conflict with his fellowman than democratic liberalism realizes. ~ Reinhold Niebuhr,

153:Suffering cheerfully endured ceases to be suffering and is transmuted into an ineffable joy. The man who flies from suffering is the victim of endless tribulation before it has come to him and is half dead when it does come. But one who is cheerfully ready for anything and everything that comes escapes all pain, his cheerfulness acts as an anaesthetic. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

154:Catholicity seized on man... and the mystics, transcending all, taught him to ascend on high with the wings of contemplation the Ladder of Jacob composed of brilliant stones, by which God descends to Earth and man ascends to Heaven, till Earth and Heaven, and God and man, burning together in a conflagration of infinite charity, are transmuted into one. ~ Juan Donoso Cortes,

155:[About the great synthesis of atomic physics in the 1920s:] It was a heroic time. It was not the doing of any one man; it involved the collaboration of scores of scientists from many different lands. But from the first to last the deeply creative, subtle and critical spirit of Niels Bohr guided, restrained, deepened and finally transmuted the enterprise. ~ J Robert Oppenheimer,

156:Don't look for any other state than the one you are in now; otherwise, you will set up inner conflict and unconscious resistance. Forgive yourself for not being at peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

157:As we have said, robust souls are sometimes almost, but not entirely, overthrown by strokes of misfortune....Despair has steps leading upward. From total depression we rise to despondency, from despondency to affliction, from affliction to melancholy. Melancholy is a twilight state in which suffering transmutes into a somber joy....Melancholy is the enjoyment of being sad. ~ Victor Hugo,

158:By the end of that decade, Hitler’s ideological vision that had existed unchangingly from the time of Mein Kampf onwards had come sharply into focus; it had been transmuted from a distant, utopian goal into a conceivable, practical objective. As we saw, within weeks of the conquest of France, Hitler’s eyes had turned to the east, to the war he knew he had one day to fight. ~ Ian Kershaw,

159: Fragment What is poetry? Is it a mosaic Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught By patient labor any hue to take And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught With storied meaning for religion's sake. ~ Amy Lowell,

160:For Mrs. Bradley, the voice she heard was the voice of the resurrected Jesus. It spoke of hope that, although white racists could take her son’s life, they could not deprive his life and death of an ultimate meaning. As in the resurrection of the Crucified One, God could transmute defeat into triumph, ugliness into beauty, despair into hope, the cross into the resurrection. ~ James H Cone,

161: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,

162:Latin America is the region of open veins. Everything from the discovery until our times, has always been transmuted into European--or later--United States-- capital, and as such has accumulated on distant centers of power. Everything: the soil, its fruits nad its mineral-rich depths, the people and their capacity to work and to consume, natural resources and human resources. ~ Eduardo Galeano,

163:In the alchemy of man's soul almost all noble attributes- courage, honor, love, hope, faith, duty, loyalty, and so on - can be transmuted into ruthlessness. Compassion alone stands apart from the continuous traffic between good and evil proceeding within us. Compassion is the antitoxin of the soul: where there is compassion, even the most poisonous impulses remain relatively harmless. ~ Eric Hoffer,

164:When his hand came down across my bottom the first time I thought I was going to die. But the pain passed, transmuted as if my some alchemical wizardry, and for a moment I experienced a surreal satisfaction in being bent over in this way without rights or choices, past or future. In pain you are living in the present and as the pain passes there is pleasure from having endured the pain. ~ Chloe Thurlow,

165:Tragedy belongs to the poets. Only they have “trod the sunlit heights and from life’s dissonance struck one clear chord.” None but a poet can write a tragedy. For tragedy is nothing less than pain transmuted into exaltation by the alchemy of poetry, and if poetry is true knowledge and the great poets guides safe to follow, this transmutation has arresting implications. Pain changed into, ~ Edith Hamilton,

166:Don't look for peace. Don't look for any other state than the one you are in now; otherwise, you will set up inner conflict and unconscious resistance. Forgive yourself for not being at peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender ~ Eckhart Tolle,

167:Don't look for peace. Don't look for any other state than the one you are in now; otherwise, you will set up inner conflict and unconscious resistance. Forgive yourself for not being at peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

168:The Sabbath is an inverse-reversion for self-seduction, an undoing for a divertive conation. Sex is used as the technique and medium of a magical act. There is not only erotic satisfaction; the sensualist is made detached and controlled until final sublimation; his whole training is submissive and obedient until, by cold amoral passion, he can transmute control and divert him- or herself where desired. ~ Anonymous,

169:We can only escape from the world by outgrowing the world. Death may take man out of the world but only wisdom can take the world out of the man. As long as the human being is obsessed by worldliness, he will suffer from the Karmic consequences of false allegiances. When however, worldliness is transmuted into Spiritual Integrity he is free, even though he still dwells physically among worldly things. ~ Manly Hall,

170:We can only escape from the world by outgrowing the world. Death may take man out of the world but only wisdom can take the world out of the man. As long as the human being is obsessed by worldliness, he will suffer from the Karmic consequences of false allegiances. When however, worldliness is transmuted into Spiritual Integrity he is free, even though he still dwells physically among worldly things. ~ Manly P Hall,

171:I closed my eyes, adding dark to dark, and the wanting unfurled like the sails of a phantom ship. This could be my universe. This nowhere world, circumscribed by skin and breath, where nothing mattered but two bodies moving together. The past and the future rendered irrelevant by the beauty of the now, the sum of the self transmuted into a moment. Oh, was there ever a more seductive definition of madness? ~ Alexis Hall,

172:Yatima’s mind was reeling. The Transmuters hadn’t indulged in any of the spectacular acts of astrophysical monument-building that a bored and powerful civilization might have gone in for: no planet-sculpting, no Dyson spheres, no black-hole juggling. But by tailoring a few neutrons on this obscure planet, they’d hitched the entire universe into synch with the time stream of an unimaginably larger structure. ~ Greg Egan,

173:Don't look for peace. Don't look for any ther state than the one you are in now; otherwise, you will set up inner conflict and unconscious resistance. Forgive yourself for not being peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrencer. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

174:Don't look for peace. Don't look for any other state than the one you are in now; otherwise, you will set up inner conflict and unconscious resistance. Forgive yourself for not being peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace becomes transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

175:Need we go into details about what I said to Judy? I am no poet, and I suppose what I said was very much what everybody always says, and although I remember her as speaking golden words, I cannot recall precisely anything she said. If love is to be watched and listened to without embarrassment, it must be transmuted into art, and I don't know how to do that, and it is not what I have come to Zurich to learn. ~ Robertson Davies,

176:Despite the heavy, motionless silence of the hawthorns, these gusts of fragrance came to me like the murmuring of an intense vitality, with which the whole altar was quivering like a roadside hedge explored by living antennae, of which I was reminded by seeing some stamens, almost red in colour, which seemed to have kept the springtime virulence, the irritant power of stinging insects now transmuted into flowers. ~ Marcel Proust,

177:No need to go into details about what I said to Judy? I am no poet, and I suppose what I said was very much what everybody always says, and although I remember her as speaking golden words, I cannot recall precisely anything she said. If love is to be watched and listened to without embarrassment, it must be transmuted into art, and I don't know how to do that, and it is not what I have come to Zürich to learn. ~ Robertson Davies,

178:We labored to understand before we learned how dear knowledge had become, that in the war between nations to dominate so much new territory, ideas had transmuted into a new currency recognizable to all and immediately transferable. Intellectual property rights now serve as an ephemeral gold, weightless and invisible, priceless artifacts one can slip into the folds of his or her brain and smuggle anywhere, undetected. ~ Hugh Howey,

179:For with each bite he tasted not just the irresistible sweetness of the dessert, but the deliciously agonizing negative flavor of all the imagined foodstuffs that he could have bought with that nickel instead—a turkey leg the size of his forearm, or a milkshake with a pair of deep red strawberries floating on its surface. The single relinquished nickel sat in the custard seller's till, its gold transmuted back to lead. ~ Dexter Palmer,

180:Human cultures are all experiments in trying to find a form that will fit the matter of our immediacy; but it is absolutely not the case that all such experiments are of equal merit or value. Some cultures - and modernity is patently one - have managed to transmute consciousness into the "disease" that Nietzsche called it, the self-affliction of a self-centeredness that has purged itself of all vestiges of wisdom and value. ~ Kenny Smith,

181:Divine creator, father, mother, son as one . . . If I, my family, relatives, and ancestors have offended you, your family, relatives, and ancestors in thoughts, words, deeds, and actions from the beginning of our creation to the present, we ask your forgiveness. . . . Let this cleanse, purify, release, cut all the negative memories, blocks, energies, and vibrations and transmute these unwanted energies to pure light. . . . And it is done. ~ Joe Vitale,

182:They stopped for a moment to watch the evening sky transform itself in a show of dazzling radiance as gold transmuted into shades of vermilion that waned into shimmering purple, then darkened to deep blue as the first glittering sky fires appeared. Soon the sooty black night became a backdrop to the multitude of blazing lights that filled the summer sky, with a concentrated accumulation wending its way like a path across the vault above. ~ Jean M Auel,

183:I fell back on the old habits and logic of the street, where it was so often necessary to deny humiliation and transmute pain into rage. So I took the agony of that era like a collection notice and hid it away in the upper dresser of the mind, resolved to return to it when I had means to pay. I think now, today, I have settled almost all of those old accounts. But the ache and aftershock of failure remain long after the drawer is bare. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,

184:Instead, I fell back on the old habits and logic of the street, where it was so often necessary to deny humiliation and transmute pain into rage. So I took the agony of that era like a collection notice and hid it away in the upper dresser of the mind, resolved to return to it when I had means to pay. I think now, today, I have settled almost all of those old accounts. But the ache and aftershock of failure remain long after the drawer is bare. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,

185:God's M.O., he reflected, is to transmute evil into good. If He is active here, He is doing that now, although our eyes can't perceive it; the process lies hidden beneath the surface of reality, and emerges only later. To, perhaps, our waiting heirs. Paltry people who will not know the dreadful war we've gone through, and the losses we took, unless in some footnote in a minor history book they catch a notion. Some brief mention. With no list of the fallen. ~ Philip K Dick,

186:Mid-summer ... when the alchemy of Nature transmutes the sylvan landscape to one vivid and almost homogeneous mass of green; when the senses are well-nigh intoxicated with the surging seas of moist verdure and the subtly indefinable odours of the soil and the vegetation. In such surroundings the mind loses its perspective; time and space become trivial and unreal, and echoes of a forgotten prehistoric past beat insistently upon the enthralled consciousness. ~ H P Lovecraft,

187:It was in mid-summer, when the alchemy of Nature transmutes the sylvan landscape to one vivid and almost homogeneous mass of green; when the senses are well-nigh intoxicated with the surging seas of moist verdure and the subtly indefinable odours of the soil and the vegetation. In such surroundings the mind loses its perspective; time and space become trivial and unreal, and echoes of a forgotten prehistoric past beat insistently upon the enthralled consciousness. ~ H P Lovecraft,

188:Ibn Arabi was above all the disciple of Khidr ( Khidr). We shall attempt further on to indicate what it signifies and implies to be "the disciple of Khidr." In any event such a relationship with a hidden spiritual master lends the disciple an essentially "transhistorical" dimension and presupposes an ability to experience events which are enacted in a reality other than the physical reality of daily life, events which spontaneously transmute themselves into symbols. ~ Henry Corbin,

189:Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the moment back as its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

190:Present, past, future, no more for me, But ever-present, all-flowing I, I, everywhere. Planets, stars, stardust, earth, Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms, Creation’s molding furnace, Glaciers of silent x-rays, burning electron floods, Thoughts of all men, past, present, to come, Every blade of grass, myself, mankind, Each particle of universal dust, Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust, I swallowed, transmuted all Into a vast ocean of blood of my own one Being! ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,

191:Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, unprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

192:Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

193:If you go to a master to study and learn the techniques, you diligently follow all the instructions the master puts upon you. But then comes the time for using the rules in your own way and not being bound by them....You can actually forget the rules because they have been assimilated. You are an artist. Your own innocence now is of one who has become an artist, who has been, as it were, transmuted.... You can't have creativity unless you leave behind the bounded, the fixed, all the rules. ~ Joseph Campbell,

194:The crews, the young men who’d transmuted their fear into rage, were the greatest danger. The crews walked the blocks of their neighborhood, loud and rude, because it was only through their loud rudeness that they might feel any sense of security and power. They would break your jaw, stomp your face, and shoot you down to feel that power, to revel in the might of their own bodies. And their wild reveling, their astonishing acts made their names ring out. Reps were made, atrocities recounted. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,

195:He had given up, she thought, or he had died trying to reach her mother before she did, and in neither of those instances did she know how to find him, or how to be angry, or how to mourn. She went days and weeks without thinking of him at all, and on those occasions she did think of him, it was with an abstract sadness that transmuted disappointment, concern, and compromised love into a final resignation that as far as fathers were concerned, this—silence, mystery—was all life would have to offer her. ~ Joshua Ferris,

196:From Sachs to Kristof to Invisible Children to TED, the fastest growth industry in the US is the White Savior Industrial Complex. The white savior supports brutal policies in the morning, founds charities in the afternoon, and receives awards in the evening. The banality of evil transmutes into the banality of sentimentality. The world is nothing but a problem to be solved by enthusiasm. This world exists simply to satisfy the needs - including, importantly, the sentimental needs - of white people and Oprah. ~ Teju Cole,

197:I have been down many blind alleys in my attempts to come to terms with my emotions. I’ve repressed them, swallowed them, drowned them in drink, ascended above them in clouds of hemp, starved them out, interred them with food, transcended them in meditation, outrun them, outsmarted them with rationalization, exorcised them, handed them over to higher beings, transmuted them into pretty lights, and even briefly felt them before purging them in dramatic catharses that promised to render them finally extinct. ~ Pete Walker,

198:My life has made me what I am. It hasn't been easy, sometimes I have found it almost unbearable, but suffering can be transmuted into strength-as a rod is tempered by passing through a furnace-and all my hard work, all my anxieties and failures and disappointments have made me what I am. When the rod is tempered it has to be polished and made fit for service...everything that happens as one goes through life helps to polish the rod. If I didn't feel sure of that I couldn't go on; I couldn't face the future. ~ D E Stevenson,

199:Grief does not end and love does not die and nothing fills its graven place. With grace, pain is transmuted into the gold of wisdom and compassion and the lesser coin of muted sadness and resignation; but something leaden of it remains, to become the kernel arond which more pain accretes (a black pearl): one pain becomes every other pain ... unless one strips away, one by one, the layers of pain to get to the heart of the pain - and this causes more pain, pain so intense as to feel like evisceration. ~ Barbara Grizzuti Harrison,

200:My pawing over the ancients and semi-ancients has been one struggle to find out what has been done, once and for all, better than it can ever be done again, and to find out what remains for us to do, and plenty does remain, for if we still feel the same emotions as those who launched a thousand ships, it is quite certain that we came on these feelings differently, through different nuances, by different intellectual gradations. Each age has its own abounding gifts yet only some ages transmute them into matters of duration. ~ Ezra Pound,

201:The desire to punish is a desire that emanates from a place of equality and justice. The lesson I feel that we have to confront is that that impulse is so easily transmuted into something corrosive and corrupt in how it's actually put into practice. That's the danger. It's not that the impulse is wrong or unjust or not totally righteous. It's that the ways in which the system that operates, the system that we've constructed tends to not deliver the promise of equity we might want, when we look to the system to provide it. ~ Chris Hayes,

202:Balance and control come from healthy anger. This is just as aggressive as the unhealthy kind. But it is based on a belief and hope for change in social roles and institutions. Healthy anger demands change and creates the confrontations needed for change to occur. It also gives the other an opportunity to help make that change. “Our task, of course, is to transmute the anger that is affliction into the anger that is determination to bring about change. I think, in fact, that one could give that as a definition of revolution. ~ Barbara Deming,

203:As the landscape turned increasingly chaotic and murderous, the streams of refugees swelled. Another headlong, fearful escape of the kind that in collective dreams, in legends, would be misremembered and reimagined into pilgrimage or crusade ... the dark terror behind transmuted to a bright hope ahead, the bright hope becoming a popular, perhaps someday a national, delusion. Embedded invisibly in it would remain the ancient darkness, too awful to face, thriving, emerging in disguise, vigorous, evil, destructive, inextricable. ~ Thomas Pynchon,

204:The writer doesn’t want to disclose or instruct or advocate, he wants to transmute and disturb. He cherishes the mystery, he cares for it like a fugitive in his cabin, his cave. He doesn’t want to talk it into giving itself up. He would never turn it in to the authorities, the mass mind. The writer is somewhat of a fugitive himself, actually. He wants to escape his time, the obligations of his time, and, by writing, transcend them. The writer does not like to follow orders, not even the orders of his own organizing intellect. ~ Joy Williams,

205:What does it mean that the most popular and unifying form of entertainment in America circa 2014 features giant muscled men, mostly African-American, engaged in a sport that causes many of them to suffer brain damage? What does it mean that our society has transmuted the intuitive physical joys of childhood—run, leap, throw, tackle—into a corporatized form of simulated combat? That a collision sport has become the leading signifier of our institutions of higher learning, and the undisputed champ of our colossal Athletic Industrial Complex? ~ Steve Almond,

206:Enclosures are molds, distinct castings, but controls are a modulation, like a self-deforming cast that will continually change from one moment to the other, or like a sieve whose mesh will transmute from point to point. This is obvious in the matter of salaries: the factory was a body that contained its internal forces at a level of equilibrium, the highest possible in terms of production, the lowest possible in terms of wages; but in a society of control, the corporation has replaced the factory, and the corporation is a spirit, a gas. ~ Gilles Deleuze,

207:The first question I can answer, but the second is difficult indeed, for endurance of inescapable sorrow is something which has to be learned alone. And only to endure is not enough. Endurance can be a harsh and bitter root in one’s life, bearing poisonous and gloomy fruit, destroying other lives. Endurance is only the beginning. There must be acceptance and the knowledge that sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness. ~ Pearl S Buck,

208:The energy that is wasted during one sexual intercourse is tantamount to the energy that is spent in physical labour for ten days or the energy that is utilized in mental work for three days. Mark how precious is the vital fluid, semen! Do not waste this energy. Preserve it with great care. You will have wonderful vitality. When Veerya is not used, it is all transmuted into Ojas Sakti or spiritual energy and stored up in the brain. Western doctors know little of this salient point. Most of your ailments are due to excessive seminal wastage. ~ Sivananda Saraswati,

209:The body is transmuted into other forms, worms batten on it, it helps to feed the grass, and some animal consumes the grass. But as for the survival of the individual spirit of a man, show me one tittle of scientific evidence to support it. Besides, if it did survive, all the evil and malice in it must surely survive too. Why should the death of the body purge that away? It's a nightmare to contemplate such a thing, and oddly enough, unhinged people like spiritualists want to persuade us for our consolation that the nightmare is true. ("Monkeys") ~ E F Benson,

210:Parents choosing a school for their children—an innocent, important, humdrum, private affair which a lethal blend of bitter division and too much money had transmuted into a monstrous clerical task, into box files of legal documents so numerous and heavy they were hauled to court on trolleys, into hours of educated wrangling, procedural hearings, deferred decisions, the whole circus rising, but so slowly, through the judicial hierarchy like a lopsided, ill-tethered hot-air balloon. If the parents could not agree, the law, reluctantly, must take the decisions. ~ Ian McEwan,

211:Lucifer, on the other hand, is the spirit of excess, the flaming son of rashness and the ruler of sense-gratification, over which he wields dominion with a scepter of serpents. [...]Lucifer is the light-bringer; he is transmuted by man into the fiery demon of war and hate. His power is used by man as the inspiration of lust and passion [...] He always is opposed to Satan, seeking to snatch the soul of man from the cold embrace of Saturn. He is the heat the incubates the soul, but man uses him as a flame to burn up reason. ~ Manly P Hall, Magic: A Treatise on Esoteric Ethics,

212:Every innovation—technological, sociological, or otherwise—begins as a crusade, organizes itself into a practical business, and then, over time, degrades into common exploitation. This is simply the life cycle of how human ingenuity manifests in the material world. What goes forgotten, though, is that those who partake in this system undergo a similar transformation: people begin as comrades and fellow citizens, then become labor resources and assets, and then, as their utility shifts or degrades, transmute into liabilities, and thus must be appropriately managed. ~ Robert Jackson Bennett,

213:In our work with men, we have found that in many men this inability or refusal to feel their deep sadness takes the form of aimless anger.1 The only way to get to the bottom of their anger is to face the ocean of sadness underneath it. Men are not free to cry, so they just transmute their tears into anger, and sometimes it pools up in their soul in the form of real depression. Men are actually encouraged to deny their shadow self in any competitive society, so we all end up with a lot of sad and angry old men. Men are capable of so much more, if they will only do some shadowboxing. ~ Richard Rohr,

214:In his (Christ's) surrender on the cross all the pain and agony of mankind was concentrated at a single point, and passed through from death to immortality, There is no pain of any creature from the beginning to the end of time which was not 'known' at this point and thus transmuted. To know all things in the Word is thus to know all the suffering of the world transfigured by the resurrection, somehow reconciled and atoned in eternal life. It was God's purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things on heaven and things on earth'. ~ Bede Griffiths,

215:When rocks are liquid or nearly liquid, what geologists call plastic, they contain a certain amount of rubidium and a certain amount of strontium. The mixture is measurable by diligent radiochemists. When that molten rock spews out of a volcano, say, it solidifies. By looking at the ratios of certain elements frozen in with rubidium and strontium, radiochemists and geochemists can determine how long ago the melt, as it’s called, turned solid. In the case of rubidium and strontium, we can count on precisely half of the rubidium-87 to transmute to strontium-87 (now with 49 protons) in 48.8 billion years. ~ Bill Nye,

216:To set out for rehearsals in that quivering quarter-hour is to engage conclusions, not beginnings, for one walks past the guilded hallucinations of poverty with a corrupt resignation touched by details, as if the destitute, in their orange-tinted back yards, under their dusty trees, or climbing into their favelas, were all natural scene designers and poverty were not a condition but an art. Deprivation is made lyrical, and twilight, with the patience of alchemy, almost transmutes despair into virtue. In the tropics nothing is lovelier than the allotments of the poor, no theater is as vivid, voluble, and cheap. ~ Derek Walcott,

217:In the alchemy of man's soul almost all noble attributes--courage, honor, love, hope, faith, duty, loyalty, etc.--can be transmuted into ruthlessness. Compassion alone stands apart from the continuous traffic between good and evil proceeding within us. Compassion is the antitoxin of the soul: where there is compassion even the most poisonous impulses remain relatively harmless. Nature has no compassion. It is, in the words of William Blake, "a creation that groans, living on the death; where fish and bird and beast and tree and metal and stone live by devouring." Nature accepts no excuses and the only punishment it knows is death. ~ Eric Hoffer,

218:Trout sat back and thought about the conversation. He shaped it into a story, which he never got around to writing until he was an old, old man. It was about a planet where the language kept turning into pure music, because the creatures there were so enchanted by sounds. Words became musical notes. Sentences became melodies. They were useless as conveyors of information, because nobody knew or cares what the meanings of words were anymore. So leaders in government and commerce, in order to function, had to invent new and much uglier vocabularies and sentence structures all the time, which would resist being transmuted to music. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,

219:The case against intellect is founded on a set of fictional and wholly abstract antagonisms. Intellect is pitted against feeling, on the ground that it is somehow inconsistent with warm emotion. It is pitted against character, because it is widely believed that intellect stands for mere cleverness, which transmutes easily into the sly and diabolical. It is pitted against practicality, since theory is held to be opposed to practice. It is pitted against democracy, since intellect is felt to be a form of distinction that defies egalitarianism…. Once the validity of these antagonisms is accepted, then the case for intellect … is lost. ~ Charles P Pierce,

220:Wang Lung sat smoking, thinking of the silver as it had lain upon the table. It had come out of the earth, this silver, out of his earth that he ploughed and turned and spent himself upon. He took his life from this earth; drop by drop by his sweat he wrung food from it and from the food, silver. Each time before this that he had taken the silver out to give to anyone, it had been like taking a piece of his life and giving it to someone carelessly. But now for the first time such giving was not pain. He saw, not the silver in the alien hand of a merchant in the town; he saw the silver transmuted into something worth even more than itself—clothes upon the body of his son. ~ Pearl S Buck,

221:Wang Lung sat smoking, thinking of the silver as it had lain upon the table. It had come out of the earth, this silver, out of the earth that he ploughed and turned and spent himself upon. He took his life from the earth; drop by drop by his sweat he wrung food from it and from the food, silver. Each time before this that he had taken the silver out to give to anyone, it had been like taking a piece of his life and giving it to someone carelessly. But not for the first time, such giving was not pain. He saw, not the silver in the alien hand of a merchant in the town; he saw the silver transmuted into something worth even more than life itself - clothes upon the body of his son. ~ Pearl S Buck,

222:Evil is not a false thing; there are no false things in the creation of a true God. Evil is an abuse or misuse of power. [...] The worst evil in nature can be transmuted into good by the simple process of adjustment. The average intelligence of the consciously functioning man is sufficient to make a god out of any demon by the simple process of inversion; likewise, he is capable of making a demon or evil thing out of any good thing or god by placing it in improper relationship to other things. The word devil is used to cover the two excesses of polarity in nature, for when uncurbed, either will destroy the organism that man is seeking to construct. ~ Manly P Hall, Magic: A Treatise on Esoteric Ethics,

223:Poetry turns all things to loveliness; it exalts the beauty of that which is most beautiful, and it adds beauty to that which is most deformed; it marries exultation and horror, grief and pleasure, eternity and change; it subdues to union under its light yoke all irreconcilable things. It transmutes all that it touches, and every form moving within the radiance of its presence is changed by wondrous sympathy to an incarnation of the spirit which it breathes: its secret alchemy turns to potable gold the poisonous waters which flow from death through life; it strips the veil of familiarity from the world, and lays bare the naked and sleeping beauty, which is the spirit of its forms. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley,

224:Quantum mechanics. What a repository, a dump, of human aspiration it was, the borderland where mathematical rigor defeated common sense, and reason and fantasy irrationally merged. Here the mystically inclined could find whatever they required and claim science as their proof. And for these ingenious men in their spare time, what ghostly and beautiful music it must be—spectral asymmetry, resonances, entanglement, quantum harmonic oscillators—beguiling ancient airs, the harmony of the spheres that might transmute a lead wall into gold and bring into being the engine that ran on virtually nothing, on virtual particles, that emitted no harm and would power the human enterprise as well as save it. ~ Ian McEwan,

225:At the conclusion of all our studies we must try once again to experience the human soul as soul, and not just as a buzz of bioelectricity; the human will as will, and not just a surge of hormones; the human heart not as a fibrous, sticky pump, but as the metaphoric organ of understanding. We need not believe in them as metaphysical entities -- they are as real as the flesh and blood they are made of. But we must believe in them as entities; not as analyzed fragments, but as wholes made real by our contemplation of them, by the words we use to talk of them, by the way we have transmuted them to speech. We must stand in awe of them as unassailable, even though they are dissected before our eyes. ~ Melvin Konner,

226:In answer to the question, "How shall we overcome temptation," a noted writer said, "Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness is the second, and cheerfulness is the third." A habit of cheerfulness, enabling one to transmute apparent misfortunes into real blessings, is a fortune to a young man or young woman just crossing the threshold of active life. He who has formed a habit of looking at the bright, happy side of things, who sees the glory in the grass, the sunshine in the flowers, sermons in stones, and good in everything, has a great advantage over the chronic dyspeptic, who sees no good in anything. His habitual thought sculptures his face into beauty and touches his manner with grace. ~ Orison Swett Marden,

227:It was a huge and expensive demonstration of Hofstadter’s argument: The case against intellect is founded on a set of fictional and wholly abstract antagonisms. Intellect is pitted against feeling, on the ground that it is somehow inconsistent with warm emotion. It is pitted against character, because it is widely believed that intellect stands for mere cleverness, which transmutes easily into the sly and diabolical. It is pitted against practicality, since theory is held to be opposed to practice. It is pitted against democracy, since intellect is felt to be a form of distinction that defies egalitarianism…. Once the validity of these antagonisms is accepted, then the case for intellect … is lost. ~ Charles P Pierce,

228:Books help to form us. If you cut me open, you will find volume after volume, page after page, the contents of every one I have ever read, somehow transmuted and transformed into me. Alice in Wonderland. the Magic Faraway Tree. The Hound of the Baskervilles. The Book of Job. Bleak House. Wuthering Heights. The Complete Poems of W H Auden. The Tale of Mr Tod. Howard''s End. What a strange person I must be. But if the books I have read have helped to form me, then probably nobody else who ever lived has read exactly the same books, all the same books and only the same books as me. So just as my genes and the soul within me make me uniquely me, so I am the unique sum of the books I have read. I am my literary DNA. ~ Susan Hill,

229:time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. If you’re not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have ever lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

230:Certain Rosicrucian scholars have given special appellations to these three phases of the sun: the spiritual sun they called Vulcan; the soular and intellectual sun, Christ and Lucifer respectively; and the material sun, the Jewish Demiurgus Jehovah. Lucifer here represents the intellectual mind without the illumination of the spiritual mind; therefore it is "the false light. " The false light is finally overcome and redeemed by the true light of the soul, called the Second Logos or Christ. The secret processes by which the Luciferian intellect is transmuted into the Christly intellect constitute one of the great secrets of alchemy, and are symbolized by the process of transmuting base metals into gold. ~ Manly P Hall, The Secret Teachings of all Ages,

231:Unfortunately, it's true: time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. If you're not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have ever lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

232:...unfortunately, it's true: time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. If you're not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have ever lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

233:Q: When emotions are transmuted, that doesn’t mean they disappear, does it? A: Not necessarily, but they are transmuted into other forms of energy. If we are trying to be good or peaceful, trying to suppress or subdue our emotions, that is the basic twist of ego in operation. We are being aggressive toward our emotions, trying forcefully to achieve peace or goodness. Once we cease being aggressive toward our emotions, cease trying to change them, once we experience them properly, then transmutation may take place. The irritating quality of the emotions is transmuted once you experience them as they are. Transmutation does not mean that the energy quality of the emotions is eliminated; in fact it is transformed into wisdom, which is very much needed. ~ Ch gyam Trungpa,

234:The ancient teachers of this science," said he, "promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,

235:SIX MONTHS AGO A FRIEND WAS ANGRY WITH ME and I with her. I had written about something someone said many years ago, but it was she who heard the words, not me, a fact I had completely forgotten. Her experience was precious, and she accused me of stealing her memory. Not only that, but what she remembered with grief I had somehow transmuted to gratitude, so besides stealing her memory, I also got it wrong. We argued, but there was no meeting place. For days the same questions went through my head. Is memory property? If two people remember something differently is one of them wrong? Wasn’t my memory of a memory also real? There were no solid answers, just winding paths I went round and round on. I thought of nothing else; a chasm had opened between me and my friend. ~ Abigail Thomas,

236:But wait—was that not how the world at large had come to think of the ocean as a whole? Wasn’t the ocean just distance for most people these days? Didn’t we all now take for granted a body of water that, so relatively recently—no more than five hundred years before, at most—was viewed by mariners who had not yet dared attempt to cross it with a mixture of awe, terror, and amazement? Had not a sea that had once seemed an impassable barrier to somewhere—to Japan? the Indies? the Spice Islands? the East?—transmuted itself with dispatch into a mere bridge of convenience to the wealth and miracles of the New World? Had our regard for this ocean not switched from the intimidation of the unknown and the frightening to the indifference with which we now greet the ordinary? And ~ Simon Winchester,

237:A capable, clear-eyed sovereign, she knew how to build a fleet, suppress an insurrection, control a currency, alleviate a famine. An eminent Roman general vouched for her grasp of military affairs. Even at a time when women rulers were no rarity she stood out, the sole female of the ancient world to rule alone and to play a role in Western affairs. She was incomparably richer than anyone else in the Mediterranean. And she enjoyed greater prestige than any other woman of her age..... Cleopatra descended from a long line of murderers and faithfully upheld the family tradition but was, for her time and place, remarkably well behaved. She nonetheless survives as a wanton temptress, not the last time a genuinely powerful woman has been transmuted into a shamelessly seductive one. ~ Stacy Schiff,

238:When we recall the great influence which Spenser's poetry has exerted on English poets who have lived and written since his day, we can clearly see how the two kinds of Platonism - a direct Platonism, and a Platonism long ago transmuted and worked right down into the emotions of common people by the passionate Christianity of the Dark and Middle Ages - combined to beget the infinite suggestiveness which is now contained in such words as 'love' and 'beauty'. Let us remember, then, that every time we abuse these terms, or use them too lightly, we are draining them of their power; every time a society journalist or a film producer exploits this vast suggestiveness to tickle a vanity or dignify a lust, he is squandering a great pile of spiritual capital which has been laid up by centuries of weary effort. ~ Owen Barfield,

239: Lazy Man's Song I have got patronage, but am too lazy to use it; I have got land, but am too lazy to farm it. My house leaks; I am too lazy to mend it. My clothes are torn; I am too lazy to darn them. I have got wine, but am too lazy to drink; So it's just the same as if my cellar were empty. I have got a harp, but am too lazy to play; So it's just the same as if it had no strings. My wife tells me there is no more bread in the house; I want to bake, but am too lazy to grind. My friends and relatives write me long letters; I should like to read them, but they're such a bother to open. I have always been told that Chi Shu-yeh1 Passed his whole life in absolute idleness. But he played the harp and sometimes transmuted metals, So even he was not so lazy as I ~ Bai Juyi,

240:And eventually in that house where everyone, even the fugitive hiding in the cellar from his faceless enemies, finds his tongue cleaving dryly to the roof of his mouth, where even the sons of the house have to go into the cornfield with the rickshaw boy to joke about whores and compare the length of their members and whisper furtively about dreams of being film directors (Hanif's dream, which horrifies his dream-invading mother, who believes the cinema to be an extension of the brothel business), where life has been transmuted into grotesquery by the irruption into it of history, eventually in the murkiness of the underworld he cannot help himself, he finds his eyes straying upwards, up along delicate sandals and baggy pajamas and past loose kurta and above the dupatta, the cloth of modesty, until eyes meet eyes, and then ~ Salman Rushdie,

241:I don't miss him anymore. Most of the time, anyway. I want to. I wish I could but unfortunately, it's true: time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. If you're not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have ever lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience. Raw data will be compiled, will be translated into a more comprehensible language. The individual events of your life will be transmuted into another substance called memory and in the mechanism of something will be lost and you will never be able to reverse it, you will never again have the original moment back in its uncategorized, preprocessed state. It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter. ~ Charles Yu,

242:Is your cucumber bitter? Throw it away. Are there briars in your path? Turn aside. That is enough. Do not go on to say, 'Why were things of this sort ever brought into the world?' The student of nature will only laugh at you; just as a carpenter or a shoemaker would laugh, if you found fault with the shavings and scraps from their work which you saw in the shop. Yet they, at least, have somewhere to throw their litter; whereas Nature has no such out-place. That is the miracle of her workmanship: that in spite of this self-limitation, she nevertheless transmutes into herself everything that seems worn-out or old or useless, and re-fashions it into new creations, so as never to need either fresh supplies from without, or a place to discard her refuse. Her own space, her own materials and her own skill are sufficient for her. ~ Marcus Aurelius,

243:It seems to me that being psycho-analysed is essentially a process where one is forced back into infantilism and then rescued from it by crystallising what one learns into a sort of intellectual primitivism-one is forced back into myth, and folk lore and everything that belongs to the savage or undeveloped stages of society. For if I say to you: I recognise in that dream,such and such a myth; or in that emotion about my father, that folk-tale; or the atmosphere of that memory is the same as an English ballad-then you smile, you are satisfied. As far as you are concerned, I've gone beyond the childish, I've transmuted it and saved it, by embodying it in myth. But in fact all I do, or you do, is to fish among the childish memories. of an individual, and merge them with the art or ideas that belong to the childhood of a people. ~ Doris Lessing,

244:Abel, in the allegory, brings his offering, the "firstlings of his flock," and offers them to the Law. By this is meant the animal propensities of his own nature. Such is always the meaning of the burnt offerings referred to in the Scriptures. Because he brings the "animal," his offering is accepted. Cain, on the other hand, brings the fruits of the ground, and these are not accepted. The fruits here represent not principles of the soul, but merely the consequences of action. Cain's offering represents the same type of superficial gift that the rich man gives when he presents a stained glass window to the church, and continues to cheat the widows and orphans. Cain gives of what he has, for fruits represent accumulation or possessions; but Abel gives of what he is, the "firstlings," his transmuted animal nature. ~ Manly P Hall, How to Understand Your Bible,

245:The goodness of God fills all the gaps of the universe, without discrimination or preference. God is the gratuity of absolutely everything. The space in between everything is not space at all but Spirit. God is the “goodness glue” that holds the dark and light of things together, the free energy that carries all death across the Great Divide and transmutes it into Life. When we say that Christ “paid the debt once and for all,” it simply means that God's job is to make up for all deficiencies in the universe. What else would God do? Basically, grace is God's first name, and probably last too. Grace is what God does to keep all things he has made in love and alive—forever. Grace is God's official job description. Grace is not something God gives; grace is who God is. If we are to believe the primary witnesses, an unexplainable goodness is at work in the universe. ~ Richard Rohr,

246: Story Of Or To pose nakedness is To refute it. A pose Is a clothes. Like Stanzaic arrangements of The word which should Ideally, be in pain against Its w and its d. No slack Is why such heaves of or To denude itself could Make us exude gold, yet when Was that ever opposite enough What scream or epigram This sperm has come To measure our mouths for. Note: For 'or' to free itself from 'word,' it must strain ('heave') against the 'w' and the 'd' that enclose it. If, via this strenuous (perhaps squeamish) process, the meaning of 'or' is transmuted from the English into the French as a sort of homage to the pseudonymous author of 'Story of O' (Histoire d'O), then, alchemically speaking, (or so an Aurealist might suggest) it will have risen from the pose of its measures to or-emerge as an else-gasm. ~ Bill Knott,

247:Every innovation—technological, sociological, or otherwise—begins as a crusade, organizes itself into a practical business, and then, over time, degrades into common exploitation. This is simply the life cycle of how human ingenuity manifests in the material world. What goes forgotten, though, is that those who partake in this system undergo a similar transformation: people begin as comrades and fellow citizens, then become labor resources and assets, and then, as their utility shifts or degrades, transmute into liabilities, and thus must be appropriately managed. This is a fact of nature just as much as the currents of the winds and the seas. The flow of force and matter is a system, with laws and maturation patterns. We should harbor no guilt for complying with those laws—even if they sometimes require a little inhumanity. —TRIBUNO CANDIANO, LETTER TO THE COMPANY CANDIANO CHIEF OFFICER’S ASSEMBLY ~ Robert Jackson Bennett,

248:Today's enemies can be your friends tomorrow. And today's friends can be tomorrow's enemies. What you reject today, you could accept tomorrow. And what you accept today, you could reject tomorrow. Never say never unless you can predict the future. Unforeseeable circumstances can make a rich man, poor - And a poor man, rich. And unpredictable experiences can also make a good man, bad - And a bad man, good. Like the weather or bonds between lovers, Transformations cannot always be predicted. All energy transmutes one day or another, In one way or another, Either in its form or composition, Or in its position or disposition. Today will always offer new experiences, And tomorrow will always offer new opportunities. But if you heed to yesterday's lessons, You can shape your present and future To be filled with positive relationships And beautiful blessings. TODAY AND TOMORROW by Suzy Kassem ~ Suzy Kassem,

249:A naively formulated goal transmutes, with time, into the sinister form of the life-lie. One forty-something client told me his vision, formulated by his younger self: “I see myself retired, sitting on a tropical beach, drinking margaritas in the sunshine.” That’s not a plan. That’s a travel poster. After eight margaritas, you’re fit only to await the hangover. After three weeks of margarita-filled days, if you have any sense, you’re bored stiff and self-disgusted. In a year, or less, you’re pathetic. It’s just not a sustainable approach to later life. This kind of oversimplification and falsification is particularly typical of ideologues. They adopt a single axiom: government is bad, immigration is bad, capitalism is bad, patriarchy is bad. Then they filter and screen their experiences and insist ever more narrowly that everything can be explained by that axiom. They believe, narcissistically, underneath all that bad theory, that the world could be put right, if only they held the controls. ~ Jordan Peterson,

250:Today's enemies can be your friends tomorrow. And today's friends can be tomorrow's enemies. What you reject today, you could accept tomorrow. And what you accept today, you could reject tomorrow. Never say never unless you can predict the future. Unforeseeable circumstances can make a rich man, poor - And a poor man, rich. And unpredictable experiences can also make a good man, bad - And a bad man, good. Like the weather or bonds between lovers, Transformations cannot always be predicted. All energy transmutes one day or another, In one way or another, Either in its form or composition, Or in its position or disposition. Today will always offer new experiences, And tomorrow will always offer new opportunities. But if you heed to yesterday's lessons, You can shape your present and future To be filled with positive relationships And beautiful blessings. TODAY AND TOMORROW by Suzy Kassem THE SPRING FOR WISDOM Copyright 1993 ~ Suzy Kassem,

251:Since seeing such things in the water-colours of Elstir, I enjoyed noticing them in reality, glimpses of poetry as they seemed: knives lying askew in halted gestures; the bell-tent of a used napkin, within which the sun has secreted its yellow velvet; the half-emptied glass showing better the noble widening of its lines, the undrunk wine darkening it, but glinting with lights, inside the translucent glaze seemingly made from condensed daylight; volumes displaced, and liquids transmuted, by angles of illumination; the deterioration of the plums, green to blue, blue to gold, in the fruit dish already half plundered; the wandering of the old-fashioned chairs, which twice a day take their places again about the cloth draping the table as though it is an altar for the celebration of the sanctity of appetite, with a few drops of lustral water left in oyster-shells like little stone fonts; I tried to find beauty where I had never thought it might be found, in the most ordinary things, in the profound life of ‘still life’. ~ Marcel Proust,

252:If we look at the force of anger, we can, in fact, discover many positive aspects in it. Anger is not a passive, complacent state. It has incredible energy. Anger can impel us to let go of ways we may be inappropriately defined by the needs of others; it can teach us to say no. In this way it also serves our integrity, because anger can motivate us to turn from the demands of the outer world to the nascent voice of our inner world. It is a way to set boundaries and to challenge injustice at every level. Anger will not take things for granted or simply accept them mindlessly. Anger also has the ability to cut through surface appearances; it does not just stay on a superficial level. It is very critical; it is very demanding. Anger has the power to pierce through the obvious to things that are more hidden. This is why anger may be transmuted to wisdom. By nature, anger has characteristics in common with wisdom. Nevertheless, the unskillful aspects of anger are immense, and they far outweigh the positive aspects. ~ Sharon Salzberg,

253: I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be 944 I learned—at least—what Home could be— How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn Round our new Fireside—but for this— This pattern—of the Way— Whose Memory drowns me, like the Dip Of a Celestial Sea— What Mornings in our Garden—guessed— What Bees—for us—to hum— With only Birds to interrupt The Ripple of our Theme— And Task for Both— When Play be done— Your Problem—of the Brain— And mine—some foolisher effect— A Ruffle—or a Tune— The Afternoons—Together spent— And Twilight—in the Lanes— Some ministry to poorer lives— Seen poorest—thro' our gains— And then Return—and Night—and Home— And then away to You to pass— A new—diviner—care— Till Sunrise take us back to Scene— Transmuted—Vivider— This seems a Home— And Home is not— But what that Place could be— Afflicts me—as a Setting Sun— 450 Where Dawn—knows how to be— ~ Emily Dickinson,

254:An entire horde, a generation of open-minded, healthy lads pounces upon the work of diseased genius, genialized by disease, admires and praises it, raises it to the skies, perpetuates it, transmutes it, and bequeathes it to civilization, which does not live on the home-baked bread of health alone. They all swear by the name of the great invalid, thanks to whose madness they no longer need to be mad. Their healthfulness feeds upon his madness and in them he will become healthy. In other words, certain attainments of the soul and the intellect are impossible without disease, without insanity, without spiritual crime, and the great invalids are crucified victims, sacrificed to humanity and its advancement, to the broadening of its feeling and knowledge – in short, to its more sublime health. They force us to re-evaluate the concepts of 'disease' and 'health,' the relation of sickness and life, they teach us to be cautious in our approach to the idea of disease, for we are too prone always to give it a biological minus sign. ~ Thomas Mann,

255:My neck was slender and long and I could bend it nearly all the way about to take in my body: also slender, also shining. I was a dragon of gold, as if Jesse had touched me and transmuted me but not taken my life. I was sinuous and covered in lustrous golden scales, all the way almost to the tip of my tail, until they faded into purple. I had a mane, too, mapping a line down my back. It looked like a ruff of silk or cut velvet. I folded my neck around almost double so that I could rub my chin on it. Silken, yes, but also jagged. Combing my chin through it sent quivers of pleasure down my spine. Then I saw my wings. They were folded against my back, metallic. Without knowing how I did it, I opened them, using muscles I didn't even have as a person. ... I slashed my tail through the rain and realized that it was barbed when it hit an oak tree and I got stuck. No problem. I pulled it out and danced around, delighted at the fresh, gaping hole in the trunk. ... If the shark-hunters or lance-bearers came for me, I'd chew them to chum. ~ Shana Abe,

256:Lougarry was waiting over the brow of the hill, lying so still in the grass that a butterfly had perched within an inch of her nose. The stems bent and shimmered as she rose to her feet, and the butterfly floated away like a wind-borne petal. Fern wondered if , like Ragginbone, the she-wolf possessed the faculty of making herself at one with her surroundings, not invisible but transmuted, so close to nature that she could blend with it at will and be absorbed into its many forms, becoming grass blade and wildflower, still earth and moving air, resuming her true self at the prompting of a thought. It came to Fern that we are all part of one vast pattern of Being, the real world and the shadow-world, sunlight and werelight, Man and spirit, and to understand and accept that was the first step toward the abnegation of ego, the affirmation of the soul. To comprehend the wind, not as a movement of molecules but as the pulse of the air, the pulse of her pulse, was to become the wind, to blow with it through the dancing grasses to the edge of the sky... ~ Jan Siegel,

257:Never was there so much magic over things as when you spoke, and never were words so powerful. You could make speech flare up, become muddled or mighty. You did everything with words and sentences, came to an understanding with them or transmuted them, gave things a new name; and objects which understand neither the straight nor the crooked words, almost took their being from your words. Oh, nobody was ever able to play so well, you monsters! You invented all games, number games and word games, dream games and love games. Never did anyone speak of himself like that. Almost truthfully. Almost murderously truthfully. Bent over the water, almost abandoned. The world is already dark and I cannot put on the necklace of shells. There will be no clearing. You different from all the others. I am under water. Am under water. And now someone is walking up above and hates water and hates green and does not understand, will never understand. As I have never understood. Almost mute, almost still hearing the call. Come. Just once. Come. ~ Ingeborg Bachmann,

258: Five A.M. Elan that lifts me above the clouds into pure space, timeless, yea eternal Breath transmuted into words Transmuted back to breath in one hundred two hundred years nearly Immortal, Sappho's 26 centuries of cadenced breathing - beyond time, clocks, empires, bodies, cars, chariots, rocket ships skyscrapers, Nation empires brass walls, polished marble, Inca Artwork of the mind - but where's it come from? Inspiration? The muses drawing breath for you? God? Nah, don't believe it, you'll get entangled in Heaven or Hell Guilt power, that makes the heart beat wake all night flooding mind with space, echoing through future cities, Megalopolis or Cretan village, Zeus' birth cave Lassithi Plains - Otsego County farmhouse, Kansas front porch? Buddha's a help, promises ordinary mind no nirvana coffee, alcohol, cocaine, mushrooms, marijuana, laughing gas? Nope, too heavy for this lightness lifts the brain into blue sky at May dawn when birds start singing on East 12th street Where does it come from, where does it go forever? . ~ Allen Ginsberg,

259:He has always loved to read aloud, to hear words float about a room, to swim in stories and breathe in poetry. And he has a powerful voice, a beautiful voice, as deep, thick and rich as melted chocolate. Characters seem to come alive when he speaks, sliding off the page to stalk the bookshop aisles and relive their fictional lives in 3-D and Technicolor. At night, after Walt flips over the "closed" sign on the front door, he sits back behind the counter and opens doors to other worlds: bookshelves transmute into swamp trees, floors into muddy marshes, the ceiling into a purple sky cracked with lightning as he floats down the Mississippi with Huck Finn. When he meets Robinson Crusoe, the trees become heavy with coconuts, the floorboards a barren desert of sand dunes whipped by screeching winds. When he fights pirates off the coasts of Treasure Island, the floors dip and heave, the salty splash of ocean waves stings his eyes and clouds of gunpowder stain the air. As a rule Walt sticks with adventures and leaves romances untouched, preferring to escape his own aching heart rather than being reminded of it. ~ Menna van Praag,

260:To be is to have mortal shape, mortal conditions, to struggle, to evolve. Paradise is, like the dream of the Buddhists, a Nirvana where there is no more personality and hence no conflict. It is the expression of man's wish to triumph over reality, over becoming. The artist's dream of the impossible, the miraculous, is simply the resultant of his inability to adapt himself to reality. He creates, therefore, a reality of his own — in the poem — a reality which is suitable to him, a reality in which he can life out his unconscious desires, wishes, dreams. The poem is the dream made flesh, in a two-fold sense: as work of art, and as life, which is a work of art. When man becomes fully conscious of his powers, his role, his destiny, he is an artist and he ceases his struggle with reality. He becomes a traitor to the human race. He creates war because he has become permanently out of step with the rest of humanity. He sits on the door-step of his mother's womb with his race memories and his incestuous longings and he refuses to budge. He lives out his dream of Paradise. He transmutes his real experience of life into spiritual equations. ~ Henry Miller,

261:To be is to have mortal shape, mortal conditions, to struggle, to evolve. Paradise is, like the dream of the Buddhists, a Nirvana where there is no more personality and hence no conflict. It is the expression of man's wish to triumph over reality, over becoming. The artist's dream of the impossible, the miraculous, is simply the resultant of his inability to adapt himself to reality. He creates, therefore, a reality of his own — in the poem — a reality which is suitable to him, a reality in which he can live out his unconscious desires, wishes, dreams. The poem is the dream made flesh, in a two-fold sense: as work of art, and as life, which is a work of art. When man becomes fully conscious of his powers, his role, his destiny, he is an artist and he ceases his struggle with reality. He becomes a traitor to the human race. He creates war because he has become permanently out of step with the rest of humanity. He sits on the door-step of his mother's womb with his race memories and his incestuous longings and he refuses to budge. He lives out his dream of Paradise. He transmutes his real experience of life into spiritual equations. ~ Henry Miller,

262: Brought From Beyond The magpie and the bowerbird, its odd predilection unheard of by Marco Polo when he came upon, high in Badakhshan, that blue stone’s embedded glint of pyrites, like the dance of light on water, or of angels (the surface tension of the Absolute) on nothing, turned, by processes already ancient, into pigment: ultramarine, brought from beyond the water it’s the seeming color of, and of the berries, blooms and pebbles finickingly garnishing an avian shrine or bower with the rarest hue in nature, whatever nature is: the magpie’s eye for glitter from the clenched fist of the Mesozoic folding: the creek sands, the mine shaft, the siftings and burnishings, the ingot, the pagan artifact: to propagate the faith, to find the metal, unearth it, hoard it up, to, by the gilding of basilicas, transmute it: O magpie, O bowerbird, O Marco Polo and Coronado, where do 15 these things, these fabrications, come from—the holy places, ark and altarpiece, the aureoles, the seraphim—and underneath it all the howling? ~ Amy Clampitt,

263:...element of comedy is never completely eliminated from irony. But irony is something more than comedy. A comic situation is proved to be an ironic one if a hidden relation is discovered in the incongruity. If virtue becomes vice through some hidden defect in the virtue; if strength becomes weakness because of the vanity to which strength may prompt the mighty man or nation; if security is transmuted into insecurity because too much reliance is placed upon it; if wisdom becomes folly because it does not know its own limits – in all such cases the situation is ironic. The ironic situation is distinguished from a pathetic one by the fact that the person involved in it bears some responsibility from it. It is differentiated from tragedy by the fact that the responsibility is related to an unconscious weakness rather than a conscious resolution. While a pathetic or a tragic situation is not dissolved when a person becomes conscious of his involvement in it, an ironic situation must dissolve, if men or nations are made aware of their complicity in it…. or it leads to a desperate accentuation of the vanities to the point where irony turns into pure evil. ~ Reinhold Niebuhr,

264:Quantum mechanics. What a repository, a dump, of human aspiration it was, the borderland where mathematical rigor defeated common sense, and reason and fantasy irrationally merged. Here the mystically inclined could find whatever they required and claim science as their proof. And for these ingenious men in their spare time, what ghostly and beautiful music it must be--spectral asymmetry, resonances, entanglement, quantum harmonic oscillators--beguiling ancient airs, the harmony of the spheres that might transmute a lead wall into gold and bring into being the engine that ran on virtually nothing, on virtual particles, that emitted no harm and would power the human enterprise as well as save it. Beard was stirred by the yearnings of these lonely men. And why should he think they were lonely? It was not, or not only, condescension that made him think them so. They did not know enough, but they knew too much to have anyone to talk to. What mate waiting down the pub or in the British Legion, what hard-pressed wife with job and kids and housework, was going to follow them down these warped funnels in the space-time continuum, into the wormhole, the shortcut to a single, final answer to the global problem of energy? ~ Ian McEwan,

265:The purity of the initiate has nothing to do with the Judeo-Christian sense of sin, the hatred and resentment of slaves. The existing earth must be transmuted, nature transfigured, the Twilight of the Gods make way for the Resurrection of the Gods. And this is another thing. It is an alchemical transmutation, sublimation, a spiritualization of matter. More, it is not for all, only for the initiated, for the Aryan, in the center of a hierarchy of castes. In Aryan India the initiate, the tantric yogi of the 'Right Hand,' must guard chastity. As well as the Platonic troubadour in the Initiation of A-Mor, which we shall explain in the fourth part of this work. For my Maestro chastity acquires fundamental importance in the path of our Warrior Initiation. I only saw him angry once. It was when I told him I was going to marry. He exclaimed: 'You are throwing chains on your feet…!' And added: 'Advice counts for nothing, each one must learn by themselves'. I said that before I married I lived surrounded by presences ('of ghosts, of ghosts, in order to think,' as the Chilean poet Omar Caceres would say), rumours of another world. I was in close contact with the astral. That 'body,' or expectant embryo, kept developing its own 'senses'. ~ Miguel Serrano,

266:If you both agree that the relationship will be your spiritual practice, so much the better. You can then express your thoughts and feelings to each other as soon as they occur, or as soon as a reaction comes up, so that you do not create a time gap in which an unexpressed or unacknowledged emotion or grievance can fester and grow. Learn to give expression to what you feel without blaming. Learn to listen to your partner in an open, nondefensive way. Give your partner space for expressing himself or herself. Be present. Accusing, defending, attacking — all those patterns that are designed to strengthen or protect the ego or to get its needs met will then become redundant. Giving space to others — and to yourself — is vital. Love cannot flourish without it. When you have removed the two factors that are destructive to relationships — when the pain-body has been transmuted and you are no longer identified with mind and mental positions — and if your partner has done the same, you will experience the bliss of the flowering of relationship. Instead of mirroring to each other your pain and your unconsciousness, instead of satisfying your mutual addictive ego needs, you will reflect back to each other the love that you feel deep within, the love that comes with the realization of your oneness with all that is. This is the love that has no opposite. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

267:But sympathy in novels need not be simply a matter of the reader’s direct identification with a fictional character. It can also be driven by, say, my admiration of a character who is long on virtues I am short on (the moral courage of Atticus Finch, the limpid goodness of Alyosha Karamazov), or, most interestingly, by my wish to be a character who is unlike me in ways I don’t admire or even like. One of the great perplexities of fiction-and the quality that makes the novel the quintessentially liberal art form-is that we experience sympathy so readily for characters we wouldn’t like in real life. Becky Sharp may be a soulless social climber, Tom Ripley may be a sociopath, the Jackal may want to assassinate the French President, Mickey Sabbath may be a disgustingly self-involved old goat, and Raskolnikov may want to get away with murder, but I find myself rooting for each of them. This is sometimes, no doubt, a function of the lure of the forbidden, the guilty pleasure of imagining what it would be like to be unburdened by scruples. In every case, though, the alchemical agent by which fiction transmutes my secret envy or my ordinary dislike of “bad” people into sympathy is desire. Apparently, all a novelist has to do is give a character a powerful desire (to rise socially, to get away with murder) and I, as a reader, become helpless not to make that desire my own. ~ Jonathan Franzen,

268:Man becomes aware of the sacred because it itself, shows itself, as something wholly different from the profane. [...] The modern Occidental experiences a certain uneasiness before many manifestations of the sacred. He finds it difficult to accept the fact that, for many human beings, the sacred can be manifested in stones or trees, for example. But as we shall soon see, what is involved is not a veneration of the stone in itself, a cult of the tree in itself. The sacred tree, the sacred stone are not adored as stone or tree; they are worshiped precisely because they are hierophanies, because they show something that is no longer stone or tree but the sacred, the "ganz andere". [...] It is impossible to overemphasize the paradox represented by every hierophany, even the most elementary. By manifesting the sacred, any object becomes something else, yet it continues to remain itself, for it continues to participate in its surrounding cosmic milieu. A sacred stone remains a stone; apparently (or, more precisely, from the profane point of view), nothing distinguishes it from all other stones. But for those to whom a stone reveals itself as sacred, its immediate reality is transmuted into a supernatural reality. In other words, for those who have a religious experience all nature is capable of revealing itself as cosmic sacrality. The, cosmos in its entirety can become a hierophany. ~ Mircea Eliade,

269:The art of the alchemist, whether spiritual or physical, consists in completing the work of perfection, bringing forth and making dominant, as it were, the “latent goldness” which “lies obscure” in metal or man. The ideal adept of alchemy was therefore an “auxiliary of the Eternal Goodness.” By his search for the “Noble Tincture” which should restore an imperfect world, he became a partner in the business of creation, assisting the Cosmic Plan. Thus the proper art of the Spiritual Alchemist, with whom alone we are here concerned, was the production of the spiritual and only valid tincture or Philosopher’s Stone; the mystic seed of transcendental life which should invade, tinge, and wholly transmute the imperfect self into spiritual gold. That this was no fancy of seventeenth-century allegorists, but an idea familiar to many of the oldest writers upon alchemy—whose quest was truly a spiritual search into the deepest secrets of the soul—is proved by the words which bring to an end the first part of the antique “Golden Treatise upon the Making of the Stone,” sometimes attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. “This, O Son,” says that remarkable tract, “is the Concealed Stone of Many Colours, which is born and brought forth in one colour; know this and conceal it . . . it leads from darkness into light, from this desert wilderness to a secure habitation, and from poverty and straits to a free and ample fortune. ~ Evelyn Underhill,

270: At Columbine's Grave AH, Pierrot, Where is thy Columbine? What vandal could untwine That gay rose-rope of thine, And spill thy joy like wine, Poor Pierrot? Ah, Pierrot, The moon is rising red Above thy grief-bowed head; Thy roses are all shed. And Columbine is dead! Poor Pierrot! Ah, Pierrot, Kneel down beside her tomb. The gray wind of the gloom, In the world's empty room, Has shut the door of doom. Poor Pierrot! Ah, Pierrot, Is there not one sweet word Of brook or breeze or bird A mortal ever heard, Could cheer thee—not one word, Poor Pierrot? Ah, Pierrot, A thousand times the spring Will come to dance and sing Up the green earth, and bring Joy to each living thing, Poor Pierrot! But, Pierrot, When all that pomp shall pass Her lowly house in the grass, Will any say, 'Alas, 46 Poor Columbine; alas, Poor Pierrot'? Ah, Pierrot, Thy loving tears in vain Shall fall like quiet rain For her; till the stars wane, She will not come again, Poor Pierrot. Yet, Pierrot, The mighty Mother now Hath her in care somehow. Listen, and clear that brow: 'O earthling, grieve not thou, Poor Pierrot! 'Ah, Pierrot, Here on my cool green floor I do transmute, restore, All things once fair before To beauty more and more. Poor Pierrot!' ~ Bliss William Carman,

271:Berryman" I will tell you what he told me in the years just after the war as we then called the second world war don't lose your arrogance yet he said you can do that when you're older lose it too soon and you may merely replace it with vanity just one time he suggested changing the usual order of the same words in a line of verse why point out a thing twice he suggested I pray to the Muse get down on my knees and pray right there in the corner and he said he meant it literally it was in the days before the beard and the drink but he was deep in tides of his own through which he sailed chin sideways and head tilted like a tacking sloop he was far older than the dates allowed for much older than I was he was in his thirties he snapped down his nose with an accent I think he had affected in England as for publishing he advised me to paper my wall with rejection slips his lips and the bones of his long fingers trembled with the vehemence of his views about poetry he said the great presence that permitted everything and transmuted it in poetry was passion passion was genius and he praised movement and invention I had hardly begun to read I asked how can you ever be sure that what you write is really any good at all and he said you can't you can't you can never be sure you die without knowing whether anything you wrote was any good if you have to be sure don't write ~ W S Merwin,

272:Seen in this way, it represents a challenge of the grassroots to the elite, of popular to the official, of the weak to the strong... More than twenty years have passed since Tiananmen protests of 1989, and from today's perspective their greatest impact has been the lack of progress in reforming the political system. It's fair to say political reform was taking place in the 1980s, even if its pace was slower than that of economic reform. After Tiananmen, however, political reform ground to a halt, while economy began breakneck development. Because of this pradox we find ourselves in a reality full of contradictions: conservative here, radical there; the concentration of political power on this side, the unfettering of economic interests on that; dogmatism on the one hand, anarchism on hte other; toeing the line here, tossing away the rule book there. Over the past twenty years our development has been uneven rather than comprehensive, and this lopsided development is compromising the health of our society. It seems to me that the emergence - and unstoppable momentum - of the copycat phenomenon is an inevitable consequence of this lopsided development. The ubiquity and sharpness of social contradictions have provoked confusion in people's value systems and worldview, thus giving birth to the copycat effect, when all kinds of social emotions accumulate over time and find only limited channels of release, transmuted constantly into seemingly farcical acts of rebellion that have certain anti-authoritarian, anti-mainstream, and anti-monopoly elements. The force and scale of copycatting demonstrate that the whole nation has taken to it as a form of performance art. ~ Yu Hua,

273:Seen in this way, it represents a challenge of the grassroots to the elite, of popular to the official, of the weak to the strong... ...More than twenty years have passed since Tiananmen protests of 1989, and from today's perspective their greatest impact has been the lack of progress in reforming the political system. It's fair to say political reform was taking place in the 1980s, even if its pace was slower than that of economic reform. After Tiananmen, however, political reform ground to a halt, while economy began breakneck development. Because of this pradox we find ourselves in a reality full of contradictions: conservative here, radical there; the concentration of political power on this side, the unfettering of economic interests on that; dogmatism on the one hand, anarchism on hte other; toeing the line here, tossing away the rule book there. Over the past twenty years our development has been uneven rather than comprehensive, and this lopsided development is compromising the health of our society. It seems to me that the emergence - and unstoppable momentum - of the copycat phenomenon is an inevitable consequence of this lopsided development. The ubiquity and sharpness of social contradictions have provoked confusion in people's value systems and worldview, thus giving birth to the copycat effect, when all kinds of social emotions accumulate over time and find only limited channels of release, transmuted constantly into seemingly farcical acts of rebellion that have certain anti-authoritarian, anti-mainstream, and anti-monopoly elements. The force and scale of copycatting demonstrate that the whole nation has taken to it as a form of performance art. ~ Yu Hua,

274:Gustav is a composer. For months he has been carrying on a raging debate with Säure over who is better, Beethoven or Rossini. Säure is for Rossini. “I’m not so much for Beethoven qua Beethoven,” Gustav argues, “but as he represents the German dialectic, the incorporation of more and more notes into the scale, culminating with dodecaphonic democracy, where all notes get an equal hearing. Beethoven was one of the architects of musical freedom—he submitted to the demands of history, despite his deafness. While Rossini was retiring at the age of 36, womanizing and getting fat, Beethoven was living a life filled with tragedy and grandeur.” “So?” is Säure’s customary answer to that one. “Which would you rather do? The point is,” cutting off Gustav’s usually indignant scream, “a person feels good listening to Rossini. All you feel like listening to Beethoven is going out and invading Poland. Ode to Joy indeed. The man didn’t even have a sense of humor. I tell you,” shaking his skinny old fist, “there is more of the Sublime in the snare-drum part to La Gazza Ladra than in the whole Ninth Symphony. With Rossini, the whole point is that lovers always get together, isolation is overcome, and like it or not that is the one great centripetal movement of the World. Through the machineries of greed, pettiness, and the abuse of power, love occurs. All the shit is transmuted to gold. The walls are breached, the balconies are scaled—listen!” It was a night in early May, and the final bombardment of Berlin was in progress. Säure had to shout his head off. “The Italian girl is in Algiers, the Barber’s in the crockery, the magpie’s stealing everything in sight! The World is rushing together. ~ Thomas Pynchon,

275:Man, rather the Superman, by participating with his Self, not with his 'I', in the immense process of Energy, which Nietzsche calls Will of Power, He does it without changing anything, accepting the fatality of chance of the Eternal Return, because you can not modify it, you can not change a single blade, or a detail, or a star. However, by accepting the Eternal Return, having had the 'vision' (which includes nostalgia) has passed, in an instant (at the Gateway of the Moment) to modify everything irremediably and forever. How? Giving The Sense your acceptance. That is, he has created, he has invented an Inexistent Flower, but it is more real than all the flowers of the gardens of the earth. We will not try to explain this mostly, because you can not. the same Superman is a creation of this kind, non-existent, an illusion. Pure magic. It is not real and it is more real than everything real. Without us everything will return, without doubt, but when we enter to intervene, wishing it with the Self and from the Self, everything will return in a different way, everything will be different, even when nothing has changed apparently. However, the alteration is essential, definitive: chance has been transformed into destination. Amor fati takes ownership of the process. This is why Nietzsche is a magician, a poet-magician. We will return to this key point and center of the Drama, which is thus transmuted into game, in the Great Game of the Maya-Power, in the Dance of the Shakti-Power. It's a Comedy, a Gay-Comedy, a histrionics, a slapstick, an affair cheerful, or a joy of pain, as Nietzsche would like to say, imagining that 'the highest music would be the one that could interpret the joy of pain and none another.' It is a Divine Comedy. ~ Miguel Serrano,

276:When, without the bitterness of impotent rebellion, we have learnt both to resign ourselves to the outward rules of Fate and to recognise that the non-human world is unworthy of our worship, it becomes possible at last so to transform and refashion the unconscious universe, so to transmute it in the crucible of imagination, that a new image of shining gold replaces the old idol of clay. In all the multiform facts of the world--in the visual shapes of trees and mountains and clouds, in the events of the life of man, even in the very omnipotence of Death--the insight of creative idealism can find the reflection of a beauty which its own thoughts first made. In this way mind asserts its subtle mastery over the thoughtless forces of Nature. The more evil the material with which it deals, the more thwarting to untrained desire, the greater is its achievement in inducing the reluctant rock to yield up its hidden treasures, the prouder its victory in compelling the opposing forces to swell the pageant of its triumph. Of all the arts, Tragedy is the proudest, the most triumphant; for it builds its shining citadel in the very centre of the enemy's country, on the very summit of his highest mountain; from its impregnable watchtowers, his camps and arsenals, his columns and forts, are all revealed; within its walls the free life continues, while the legions of Death and Pain and Despair, and all the servile captains of tyrant Fate, afford the burghers of that dauntless city new spectacles of beauty. Happy those sacred ramparts, thrice happy the dwellers on that all-seeing eminence. Honour to those brave warriors who, through countless ages of warfare, have preserved for us the priceless heritage of liberty, and have kept undefiled by sacrilegious invaders the home of the unsubdued. ~ Bertrand Russell,

277:You're rather good at this, aren't you?" And she didn't just mean his reading of Gerrard. Vane's grin converted to a rakish smile. "I'm rather good at lots of things." His voice had lowered to a rumbling purr. He leaned closer. Patience tried, very hard, to ignore the vise slowly closing about her chest. She kept her eyes on his, drawing ever nearer, determined that she wouldn't- absolutely would not- allow her gaze to drop to his lips. As her heartbeat deepened, she raised one brow challengingly. "Such as?" By the time Patience reached that conclusion, she was utterly breathless- and utterly enthralled by the heady feelings slowly spiraling through her. Vane's confident possession of her lips, her mouth, left her giddy- pleasurably so. His hard lips moved on hers, and she softened, not just her lips, but every muscle, every limb. Slow heat washed through her, a tide of simple delight that seemed to have no greater meaning, no deeper import. It was all pleasure, simple pleasure. With a mental sigh, she lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. He shifted closer. Patience thrilled to the slow surge of his tongue against hers. Boldly, she returned the caress, the muscles beneath her hands tensed. Emboldened, she let her lips firm against his, and reveled in his immediate response. Hard transmuted to harder; lips, muscles, all became more definite, more sharply defined. It was fascinating- she became softer- he became harder. And behind his hardness came heat- a heat they both shared. It rose like a fever, turning the swirling pleasure hot. Beyond the caress of his lips, he hadn't touched her, yet every nerve in her body was heating, simmering with sensation. The warm tide spread, swelled; the temperature increased. And she was flushed, restless- wanting. ~ Stephanie Laurens,

278: The Gift Of God Blessed with a joy that only she Of all alive shall ever know, She wears a proud humility For what it was that willed it so That her degree should be so great Among the favoured of the Lord That she may scarcely bear the weight Of her bewildering reward. As one apart, immune, alone, Or featured for the shining ones, And like to none that she has known Of other women's other sons The firm fruition of her need, He shines anointed; and he blurs Her vision, till it seems indeed A sacrilege to call him hers. She fears a little for so much Of what is best, and hardly dares To think of him as one to touch With aches, indignities, and cares; She sees him rather at the goal, Still shining; and her dream foretells The proper shining of a soul Where nothing ordinary dwells. Perchance a canvass of the town Would find him far from flags and shouts, And leave him only the renown Of many smiles and many doubts; Perchance the crude and common tongue Would havoc strangely with his worth; But she, with innocence unwrung, Would read his name around the earth. And others, knowing how this youth Would shine, if love could make him great, When caught and tortured for the truth 310 Would only writhe and hesitate; While she, arranging for his days What centuries could not fulfil, Transmutes him with her faith and praise, And has him shining where she will. She crowns him with her gratefulness, And says again that life is good; And should the gift of God be less In him than in her motherhood, His fame, though vague, will not be small As upward through her dream he fares, Half clouded with a crimson fall Of roses thrown on marble stairs. ~ Edwin Arlington Robinson,

279:The relations one has with a woman one loves (and that can apply also to love for a youth) can remain platonic for other reasons than the chastity of the woman or the unsensual nature of the love she inspires. The reason may be that the lover is too impatient and by the very excess of his love is unable to await the moment when he will obtain his desires by sufficient pretence of indifference. Continually, he returns to the charge, he never ceases writing to her whom he loves, he is always trying to see her, she refuses herself, he becomes desperate. From that time she knows, if she grants him her company, her friendship, that these benefits will seem so considerable to one who believed he was going to be deprived of them, that she need grant nothing more and that she can take advantage of the moment when he can no longer bear being unable to see her and when, at all costs, he must put an end to the struggle by accepting a truce which will impose upon him a platonic relationship as its preliminary condition. Moreover, during all the time that preceded this truce, the lover, in a constant state of anxiety, ceaselessly hoping for a letter, a glance, has long ceased thinking of the physical desire which at first tormented him but which has been exhausted by waiting and has been replaced by another order of longings more painful still if left unsatisfied. The pleasure formerly anticipated from caresses will later be accorded but transmuted into friendly words and promises of intercourse which brings delicious moments after the strain of uncertainty or after a look impregnated with such coldness that it seemed to remove the loved one beyond hope of his ever seeing her again. Women divine all this and know they can afford the luxury of never yielding to those who, from the first, have betrayed their inextinguishable desire. A woman is enchanted if, without giving anything, she can receive more than she generally gets when she does give herself. ~ Marcel Proust,

280: To The Reader Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin Invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed Like vermin glutting on foul beggars' skin. Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint. We take a handsome price for our confession, Happy once more to wallow in transgression, Thinking vile tears will cleanse us of all taint. On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty, Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until He turns to vapor what was once our will: Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy. He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb! We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base; Each day, towards Hell, with slow, unhurried pace, We sink, uncowed, through shadows, stinking, grim. Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore, Nibbling her suffering teats, we seize our sly delight, that, like an orange—withered, dry— We squeeze and press for juice that is no more. Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic thick as a million gut-worms; with each breath, Our lungs drink deep, suck down a stream of Death— Dim-lit—to low-moaned whimpers melancholic. If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed In sewing on that dull embroidery Of our pathetic lives their artistry, It's that our soul, alas, shrinks from the deed. And yet, among the beasts and creatures all— Panther, snake, scorpion, jackal, ape, hound, hawk— Monsters that crawl, and shriek, and grunt, and squawk, In our vice-filled menagerie's caterwaul, 490 One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon— More ugly, rank! Though noiseless, calm and still, yet would he turn the earth to scraps and swill, swallow it whole in one great, gaping yawn: Ennui! That monster frail!—With eye wherein A chance tear gleams, he dreams of gibbets, while Smoking his hookah, with a dainty smile. . . —You know him, reader,—hypocrite,—my twin! ~ Charles Baudelaire,

281: A Basket Of Summer Fruit First see those ample melons-brindled o'er With mingled green and brown is all the rind; For they are ripe, and mealy at the core, And saturate with the nectar of their kind. And here their fellows of the marsh are set, Covering their sweetness with a crumpled skin; Pomegranates next, flame-red without, and yet With vegetable crystals stored within. Then mark these brilliant oranges, of which A by-gone Poet fancifully said, Their unplucked globes the orchard did enrich Like Lolden lamps in a green nilht of shade. With these are lemons that are even more Golden than they, and which adorn our Rhyme, As did rough pendants of barbaric ore Some pillared temple of the olden time. And here are peaches with their ruddy cheeks And ripe transparency. Here nectarines bloom, All mottled as with discontinuous streaks. And spread a fruity fragrance through the room. With these are cherries mellow to the stone; Into such ripeness bath the summer nursed them, The velvet pressure of the tongue alone Against the palate were enough to burst them. Here too are plums, like edible rubies glowing The language of lush summer's Eden theme: Even through the skin how temptingly keeps showing Their juicy comfort, a rich-clouded gleam! Here too are figs, pears, apples (plucked in haste Our summer treat judiciously to vary) With apricots, so exquisite in taste, And yellow as the breast of a canary. And luscious strawberries all faceted With glittering lobes-and all the lovelier seen In contrast with the loquat's duller red, And vulgar gooseberry's unlustrous green. And lastly, bunches of rich blooded grapes Whose vineyard bloom even yet about them clings. Though ever in the handling it escapes Like the fine down upon a moth's bright wings. Each kind is piled in order in the Basket, Which we might well imagine now to be Transmuted into a great golden casket Entreasuring Pomona's jewelry. ~ Charles Harpur,

282:The reigning belief today is that closeness between persons is a moral good. The reigning aspiration today is to develop individual personality through experiences of closeness and warmth with others. The reigning myth today is that the evils of society can all be understood as evils of impersonality, alienation, and coldness. The sum of these three is an ideology of intimacy: social relationships of all kinds are real, believable, and authentic the closer they approach the inner psychological concerns of each person. This ideology transmutes political categories into psychological categories. This ideology of intimacy defines the humanitarian spirit of a society without gods: warmth is our god. The history of the rise and fall of public culture at the very least calls this humanitarian spirit into question. The belief in closeness between persons as a moral good is in fact the product of a profound dislocation which capitalism and secular belief produced in the last century. Because of this dislocation, people sought to find personal meanings in impersonal situations, in objects, and in the objective conditions of society itself. They could not find these meanings; as the world became psychomorphic, it became mystifying. They therefore sought to flee, and find in the private realms of life, especially in the family, some principle of order in the perception of personality. Thus the past built a hidden desire for stability in the overt desire for closeness between human beings. Even as we have revolted against the stern sexual rigidities of the Victorian family, we continue to burden close relations with others with these hidden desires for security, rest, and permanence. When the relations cannot bear these burdens, we conclude there is something wrong with the relationship, rather than with the unspoken expectations. Arriving at a feeling of closeness to others is thus often after a process of testing them; the relationship is both close and closed. If it changes, if it must change, there is a feeling of trust betrayed. Closeness burdened with the expectation of stability makes emotional communication—hard enough as it is—one step more difficult. Can intimacy on these terms really be a virtue? ~ Richard Sennett,

283:As former deputy head of the presidential administration, later deputy prime minister and then assistant to the President on foreign affairs, Surkov has directed Russian society like one great reality show. He claps once and a new political party appears. He claps again and creates Nashi, the Russian equivalent of the Hitler Youth, who are trained for street battles with potential prodemocracy supporters and burn books by unpatriotic writers on Red Square. As deputy head of the administration he would meet once a week with the heads of the television channels in his Kremlin office, instructing them on whom to attack and whom to defend, who is allowed on TV and who is banned, how the President is to be presented, and the very language and categories the country thinks and feels in. The Ostankino TV presenters, instructed by Surkov, pluck a theme (oligarchs, America, the Middle East) and speak for twenty minutes, hinting, nudging, winking, insinuating though rarely ever saying anything directly, repeating words like “them” and “the enemy” endlessly until they are imprinted on the mind. They repeat the great mantras of the era: the President is the President of “stability,” the antithesis to the era of “confusion and twilight” in the 1990s. “Stability”—the word is repeated again and again in a myriad seemingly irrelevant contexts until it echoes and tolls like a great bell and seems to mean everything good; anyone who opposes the President is an enemy of the great God of “stability.” “Effective manager,” a term quarried from Western corporate speak, is transmuted into a term to venerate the President as the most “effective manager” of all. “Effective” becomes the raison d’être for everything: Stalin was an “effective manager” who had to make sacrifices for the sake of being “effective.” The words trickle into the streets: “Our relationship is not effective” lovers tell each other when they break up. “Effective,” “stability”: no one can quite define what they actually mean, and as the city transforms and surges, everyone senses things are the very opposite of stable, and certainly nothing is “effective,” but the way Surkov and his puppets use them the words have taken on a life of their own and act like falling axes over anyone who is in any way disloyal. ~ Peter Pomerantsev,

284:Do you ever feel that same need? Your life is so very different from my own. The grandness of the world, the real world, the whole world, is a known thing for you. And you have no need of dispatches because you have seen so much of the American galaxy and its inhabitants—their homes, their hobbies—up close. I don’t know what it means to grow up with a black president, social networks, omnipresent media, and black women everywhere in their natural hair. What I know is that when they loosed the killer of Michael Brown, you said, “I’ve got to go.” And that cut me because, for all our differing worlds, at your age my feeling was exactly the same. And I recall that even then I had not yet begun to imagine the perils that tangle us. You still believe the injustice was Michael Brown. You have not yet grappled with your own myths and narratives and discovered the plunder everywhere around us. Before I could discover, before I could escape, I had to survive, and this could only mean a clash with the streets, by which I mean not just physical blocks, nor simply the people packed into them, but the array of lethal puzzles and strange perils that seem to rise up from the asphalt itself. The streets transform every ordinary day into a series of trick questions, and every incorrect answer risks a beat-down, a shooting, or a pregnancy. No one survives unscathed. And yet the heat that springs from the constant danger, from a lifestyle of near-death experience, is thrilling. This is what the rappers mean when they pronounce themselves addicted to “the streets” or in love with “the game.” I imagine they feel something akin to parachutists, rock climbers, BASE jumpers, and others who choose to live on the edge. Of course we chose nothing. And I have never believed the brothers who claim to “run,” much less “own,” the city. We did not design the streets. We do not fund them. We do not preserve them. But I was there, nevertheless, charged like all the others with the protection of my body. The crews, the young men who’d transmuted their fear into rage, were the greatest danger. The crews walked the blocks of their neighborhood, loud and rude, because it was only through their loud rudeness that they might feel any sense of security and power. They would break your jaw, stomp your face, and shoot you down to feel that power, to revel in the might of their own bodies. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,

285:The Eternal Return has certainly not been thought by philosophers or by those who are concerned about Nietzsche in the contemporary history of ideas, and this because the Eternal Return can not be thought of. It is a revelation that presents itself next to the Silvaplana rock, or on the threshold of the Gateway of the Moment, where the Two Ways meet. You will have to travel step by step along the path of Western yoga that Nietzsche rediscovered and practiced, putting his feet in the tracks that he left in the paths of the high peaks, relive their great pains and divine glories, reaching to reach similar tonalities of the soul, to be possessed by Dionysus and his ancient drunkenness, Luciferian, that makes dance in the solitude of forests and lost from a solar age, laughing and crying at the same time. And this is not achieved by the philosophers of the intellect or the beings 'of the flock'. For to achieve this, the Circle will have to be traversed for several eternities, again at the Gateway of the Moment, already predestined at noon. In addition, the doctrine of the Eternal Return is selective. As the initiatory practice Tantric Panshatattva is not for the paśu [animal], but only for some heroes or viryas, thus the Noon is reached by the 'Lords of the Earth' and by the poets of the Will to Power, predestined in a mysterious way to perform the Superman, that individualistic and aristocratic mutation. The 'herd', the vulgar, has nothing to do with all this, including here the scientists, technologists and most philosophers, politicians and government of the Kaliyuga. Nietzsche's description of the Eternal Return is found in some aphorisms that precede 'The Gay Science', Joyful Science, using Nietzsche the Provencal term, Occitan, from 'Gay'. Joyful Science will be that of the one who has accepted the Eternal Return of all things and has transmuted the values. The one of Superman. There is also a description in the schemes of 'The Will to Power'. In they all take hold, with genius that transcends their time, of the scientific knowledge and the mechanics of the time, which does not lose validity to the doctrine, let us say better to the revealed Idea, to the Revelation that, of somehow, it was also in the Pythagoreans, in their Aryan-Hyperborean form, differentiating itself from other elaborations made in the millennia of the East. Also would have been veiled in the Persian reformer Zarathustra. We are going to reproduce what Nietzsche has written about the Eternal Return. In the schemes of 'The Will to Power', he says: 'Everything returns and returns eternally; We can not escape this. ~ Miguel Serrano,

286:The Eternal Return has certainly not been thought by philosophers or by those who are concerned about Nietzsche in the contemporary history of ideas, and this because the Eternal Return can not be thought of. It is a revelation that presents itself next to the Silvaplana rock, or on the threshold of the Gateway of the Moment, where the Two Ways meet. You will have to travel step by step along the path of Western yoga that Nietzsche rediscovered and practiced, putting his feet in the tracks that he left in the paths of the high peaks, relive their great pains and divine glories, reaching to reach similar tonalities of the soul, to be possessed by Dionysus and his ancient drunkenness, Luciferian, that makes dance in the solitude of forests and lost from a solar age, laughing and crying at the same time. And this is not achieved by the philosophers of the intellect or the beings 'of the flock'. For to achieve this, the Circle will have to be traversed for several eternities, again at the Gateway of the Moment, already predestined at noon. In addition, the doctrine of the Eternal Return is selective. As the initiatory practice Tantric Panshatattva is not for the paśu [animal], but only for some heroes or viryas, thus the Noon is reached by the 'Lords of the Earth' and by the poets of the Will to Power, predestined in a mysterious way to perform the Superman, that individualistic and aristocratic mutation. The 'herd', the vulgar, has nothing to do with all this, including here the scientists, technologists and most philosophers, politicians and government of the Kaliyuga. Nietzsche's description of the Eternal Return is found in some aphorisms that precede 'The Gay Science', Joyful Science, using Nietzsche the Provencal term, Occitan, from 'Gay'. Joyful Science will be that of the one who has accepted the Eternal Return of all things and has transmuted the values. The one of Superman. There is also a description in the schemes of 'The Will to Power'. In they all take hold, with genius that transcends their time, of the scientific knowledge and the mechanics of the time, which does not lose validity to the doctrine, let us say better to the revealed Idea, to the Revelation that, of somehow, it was also in the Pythagoreans, in their Aryan-Hyperborean form, differentiating itself from other elaborations made in the millennia of the East. Also would have been veiled in the Persian reformer Zarathustra. We are going to reproduce what Nietzsche has written about the Eternal Return. In the schemes of 'The Will to Power', he says: 'Everything returns and returns eternally; We can not escape this. ~ Miguel Serrano,

287:The Eternal Return has certainly not been thought by philosophers or by those who are concerned about Nietzsche in the contemporary history of ideas, and this because the Eternal Return can not be thought of. It is a revelation that presents next to the Silvaplana rock, or on the threshold of the Gateway of the Moment, where the Two Ways meet. You will have to travel step by step along the path of Western yoga that Nietzsche rediscovered and practiced, putting his feet in the tracks that he left in the paths of the high peaks, relive their great pains and divine glories, reaching to reach similar tonalities of the soul, to be possessed by Dionysus and his ancient drunkenness, Luciferian, that makes dance in the solitude of forests and lost from a solar age, laughing and crying at the same time. And this is not achieved by the philosophers of the intellect or the beings 'of the flock'. For to achieve this, the Circle will have to be traversed for several eternities, again at the Gateway of the Moment, already predestined at noon. In addition, the doctrine of the Eternal Return is selective. As the initiatory practice Tantric Panshatattva is not for the paśu [animal], but only for some heroes or viryas, thus the Noon is reached by the 'Lords of the Earth' and by the poets of the Will to Power, predestined in a mysterious way to perform the Superman, that individualistic and aristocratic mutation. The 'herd', the vulgar, has nothing to do with all this, including here the scientists, technologists and most philosophers, politicians and government of the Kaliyuga. Nietzsche's description of the Eternal Return is found in some aphorisms that precede 'The Gay Science', Joyful Science, using Nietzsche the Provencal term, Occitan, from 'Gay'. Joyful Science will be that of the one who has accepted the Eternal Return of all things and has transmuted the values. The one of Superman. There is also a description in the schemes of 'The Will to Power'. In they all take hold, with genius that transcends their time, of the scientific knowledge and the mechanics of the time, which does not lose validity to the doctrine, let us say better to the revealed Idea, to the Revelation that, of somehow, it was also in the Pythagoreans, in their Aryan-Hyperborean form, differentiating itself from other elaborations made in the millennia of the East. Also would have been veiled in the Persian reformer Zarathustra. We are going to reproduce what Nietzsche has written about the Eternal Return. In the schemes of 'The Will to Power', he says: 'Everything returns and returns eternally; We can not escape this. ~ Miguel Serrano,

288:The government has a great need to restore its credibility, to make people forget its history and rewrite it. The intelligentsia have to a remarkable degree undertaken this task. It is also necessary to establish the "lessons" that have to be drawn from the war, to ensure that these are conceived on the narrowest grounds, in terms of such socially neutral categories as "stupidity" or "error" or "ignorance" or perhaps "cost." Why? Because soon it will be necessary to justify other confrontations, perhaps other U.S. interventions in the world, other Vietnams. But this time, these will have to be successful intervention, which don't slip out of control. Chile, for example. It is even possible for the press to criticize successful interventions - the Dominican Republic, Chile, etc. - as long as these criticisms don't exceed "civilized limits," that is to say, as long as they don't serve to arouse popular movements capable of hindering these enterprises, and are not accompanied by any rational analysis of the motives of U.S. imperialism, something which is complete anathema, intolerable to liberal ideology. How is the liberal press proceeding with regard to Vietnam, that sector which supported the "doves"? By stressing the "stupidity" of the U.S. intervention; that's a politically neutral term. It would have been sufficient to find an "intelligent" policy. The war was thus a tragic error in which good intentions were transmuted into bad policies, because of a generation of incompetent and arrogant officials. The war's savagery is also denounced, but that too, is used as a neutral category...Presumably the goals were legitimate - it would have been all right to do the same thing, but more humanely... The "responsible" doves were opposed to the war - on a pragmatic basis. Now it is necessary to reconstruct the system of beliefs according to which the United States is the benefactor of humanity, historically committed to freedom, self-determination, and human rights. With regard to this doctrine, the "responsible" doves share the same presuppositions as the hawks. They do not question the right of the United States to intervene in other countries. Their criticism is actually very convenient for the state, which is quite willing to be chided for its errors, as long as the fundamental right of forceful intervention is not brought into question. ... The resources of imperialist ideology are quite vast. It tolerates - indeed, encourages - a variety of forms of opposition, such as those I have just illustrated. It is permissible to criticize the lapses of the intellectuals and of government advisers, and even to accuse them of an abstract desire for "domination," again a socially neutral category not linked in any way to concrete social and economic structures. But to relate that abstract "desire for domination" to the employment of force by the United States government in order to preserve a certain system of world order, specifically, to ensure that the countries of the world remain open insofar as possible to exploitation by U.S.-based corporations - that is extremely impolite, that is to argue in an unacceptable way. ~ Noam Chomsky,

289:Much of the so-called environmental movement today has transmuted into an aggressively nefarious and primitive faction. In the last fifteen years, many of the tenets of utopian statism have coalesced around something called the “degrowth” movement. Originating in Europe but now taking a firm hold in the United States, the “degrowthers,” as I shall characterize them, include in their ranks none other than President Barack Obama. On January 17, 2008, Obama made clear his hostility toward, of all things, electricity generated from coal and coal-powered plants. He told the San Francisco Chronicle, “You know, when I was asked earlier about the issue of coal . . . under my plan of a cap and trade system, electricity rates would necessarily skyrocket. . . .”3 Obama added, “. . . So if somebody wants to build a coal-powered plant, they can. It’s just that it will bankrupt them because they’re going to be charged a huge sum for all the greenhouse gas that’s being emitted.”4 Degrowthers define their agenda as follows: “Sustainable degrowth is a downscaling of production and consumption that increases human well-being and enhances ecological conditions and equity on the planet. It calls for a future where societies live within their ecological means, with open localized economies and resources more equally distributed through new forms of democratic institutions.”5 It “is an essential economic strategy to pursue in overdeveloped countries like the United States—for the well-being of the planet, of underdeveloped populations, and yes, even of the sick, stressed, and overweight ‘consumer’ populations of overdeveloped countries.”6 For its proponents and adherents, degrowth has quickly developed into a pseudo-religion and public-policy obsession. In fact, the degrowthers insist their ideology reaches far beyond the environment or even its odium for capitalism and is an all-encompassing lifestyle and governing philosophy. Some of its leading advocates argue that “Degrowth is not just an economic concept. We shall show that it is a frame constituted by a large array of concerns, goals, strategies and actions. As a result, degrowth has now become a confluence point where streams of critical ideas and political action converge.”7 Degrowth is “an interpretative frame for a social movement, understood as the mechanism through which actors engage in a collective action.”8 The degrowthers seek to eliminate carbon sources of energy and redistribute wealth according to terms they consider equitable. They reject the traditional economic reality that acknowledges growth as improving living conditions generally but especially for the impoverished. They embrace the notions of “less competition, large scale redistribution, sharing and reduction of excessive incomes and wealth.”9 Degrowthers want to engage in polices that will set “a maximum income, or maximum wealth, to weaken envy as a motor of consumerism, and opening borders (“no-border”) to reduce means to keep inequality between rich and poor countries.”10 And they demand reparations by supporting a “concept of ecological debt, or the demand that the Global North pays for past and present colonial exploitation in the Global South.”11 ~ Mark R Levin,

290:So which theory did Lagos believe in? The relativist or the universalist?" "He did not seem to think there was much of a difference. In the end, they are both somewhat mystical. Lagos believed that both schools of thought had essentially arrived at the same place by different lines of reasoning." "But it seems to me there is a key difference," Hiro says. "The universalists think that we are determined by the prepatterned structure of our brains -- the pathways in the cortex. The relativists don't believe that we have any limits." "Lagos modified the strict Chomskyan theory by supposing that learning a language is like blowing code into PROMs -- an analogy that I cannot interpret." "The analogy is clear. PROMs are Programmable Read-Only Memory chips," Hiro says. "When they come from the factory, they have no content. Once and only once, you can place information into those chips and then freeze it -- the information, the software, becomes frozen into the chip -- it transmutes into hardware. After you have blown the code into the PROMs, you can read it out, but you can't write to them anymore. So Lagos was trying to say that the newborn human brain has no structure -- as the relativists would have it -- and that as the child learns a language, the developing brain structures itself accordingly, the language gets 'blown into the hardware and becomes a permanent part of the brain's deep structure -- as the universalists would have it." "Yes. This was his interpretation." "Okay. So when he talked about Enki being a real person with magical powers, what he meant was that Enki somehow understood the connection between language and the brain, knew how to manipulate it. The same way that a hacker, knowing the secrets of a computer system, can write code to control it -- digital namshubs?" "Lagos said that Enki had the ability to ascend into the universe of language and see it before his eyes. Much as humans go into the Metaverse. That gave him power to create nam-shubs. And nam-shubs had the power to alter the functioning of the brain and of the body." "Why isn't anyone doing this kind of thing nowadays? Why aren't there any namshubs in English?" "Not all languages are the same, as Steiner points out. Some languages are better at metaphor than others. Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Chinese lend themselves to word play and have achieved a lasting grip on reality: Palestine had Qiryat Sefer, the 'City of the Letter,' and Syria had Byblos, the 'Town of the Book.' By contrast other civilizations seem 'speechless' or at least, as may have been the case in Egypt, not entirely cognizant of the creative and transformational powers of language. Lagos believed that Sumerian was an extraordinarily powerful language -- at least it was in Sumer five thousand years ago." "A language that lent itself to Enki's neurolinguistic hacking." "Early linguists, as well as the Kabbalists, believed in a fictional language called the tongue of Eden, the language of Adam. It enabled all men to understand each other, to communicate without misunderstanding. It was the language of the Logos, the moment when God created the world by speaking a word. In the tongue of Eden, naming a thing was the same as creating it. To quote Steiner again, 'Our speech interposes itself between apprehension and truth like a dusty pane or warped mirror. The tongue of Eden was like a flawless glass; a light of total understanding streamed through it. Thus Babel was a second Fall.' And Isaac the Blind, an early Kabbalist, said that, to quote Gershom Scholem's translation, 'The speech of men is connected with divine speech and all language whether heavenly or human derives from one source: the Divine Name.' The practical Kabbalists, the sorcerers, bore the title Ba'al Shem, meaning 'master of the divine name.'" "The machine language of the world," Hiro says. ~ Neal Stephenson,

291: The Progress Of Œnia His dim, ut fama est, vitiis ad proelia ventum est, his Troiana vides funera principiis. PROPERTIUS. I. MADRIGALE Seed in your heart, warm dust transmuted Gold, blooms in flakes of radiance Arched in your face whereon my days, Brinks of silence, glance. Dream-emptied by some shifting Monna Bice, you I resume: Continually suffer the habitual Cobra of my slightest gloom! Release the happy hounds that trace New smiles from the scampering wood Of winter laughters-new prints of light And trace them to your face! II. IN WINTERTIME I would not give the winter for a rose. For remembering gold meadows and the hummer Sucking them, I think June a time of pillage. Your mouth is more passionate than any summer. They say the spring holds many grapes And green promises of fruit in the summer. Give me your lips, Œnia, and let winter seas Lash the cliffs and snows bite the grape. We shall have passion without the sound of bees. III. VIGIL When you are dead and the frosty iron of laughter Stupendously settles its pride upon your lips, I will gather up the whispers you came after When we first met, of immutable dissimulation. If you are dead when the wind cries again Over the bleak gables of an expected hour, 97 I will build a chapel out of the astonished pain And wait for bells ringing in an empty tower. IV. DIVAGATION How many winds forget the sea! Your dubious intention I forget And look into the eager waste Of your eyes careless of yesterday. What cruel wine, what wayward gust Tattering sun-hair to shreds of rain, Swept you an exile to Gyrene Blown by the swollen winds of pain, I do not know, for we are dead: Cluttering our youthful peace With a various insolence, you laugh The year, avid of love, to grief! Our death, that was lonely, you've forgot; Dawn came to us impatiently Then went away with an equal fire, Yet in an instant, in lifted night, This desolation is alive With backward motions of bright feetRemembering the madness of scaling A certain dusk to the first small star. V. EPILOGUE TO ŒNIA Whatever I have said to praise Your wrath for me in better days Than these, when the toughening grass Fell tenderer for you to pass, I say again, but differentlyAs a still wind in a winter tree. Pardon me! if turning over In the reminiscence of a lover The leaves of a desiccate romance, I can but wonder if a chance Invasion of a handsomer look Than mine began you another book? 98 I shan't devise the same end For other books unless you send Me word demanding back your hair. Do you remember how your hair Contained both ears? It never hid Them quite, but climbed to a pyramid More dazzling than superstitious kings Set in the sand as their playthings; And tell me, was it wantonness Fluttering a diaphanous dress That night at the Club when polite backs Jazzed to the midnight cordax And my veins raced to Seboim: Not wantonness, but you were slim, My dear, with a gift that I admired For always being somehow tired! Whatever else I say, your breast Contained the witchery of the rest Of a body vanished into a thought If touched too late, or lately caught. So more than your hair or olive eye I remember your breast-does it still lie Tactual billows in an upper world Of superior sculpture, whence you hurled Volcanic innocence and death Out of the caverns beneath breath? Œnia! forgive these sentiments Of a respectful lover shattered in senseYet sad that the modern bawd, grown dim, Obscures the hotel cherubim Whose red neckties had honored this page In a hotter, less barbaric age; For now the languid stertorous Pale verses of Propertius And the sapphire corpse undressed by Donne (Prefiguring Rimbaud's etymon) Have shrunk to an apotheosis Of cold daylight after the kiss. And since helmets of steel bone rind 99 The great heads of the Numerous Mind No glories of your breast and thighs Shall these poor verses advertiseOnly the dry debility Of a spent wind in a winter tree. ~ Allen Tate,

292: On Australian Hills Earth, outward tuning on her path in space This pensive southern face, Swathing its smile and shine In that soft veil that day and darkness twine, The silver-threaded twilight thin and fine, With April dews impearled, Looms like another and diviner world. Here April brings her garnered harvest-sheaf, Her withered autumn leaf, Tintings of bronze and brass; Her full-plumed reeds, her mushroom in the grass, Her furrowed fields, where plough and sower pass, Her laden apple bough. All are transfigured and transmuted now. The eastward ranges, so unearthly blue, Bloom with their richest hue; Slowly each rose-flushed crest Deepens to violet where the shadows rest, Darkens and darkens to the paling west; The waning sun-fires die; The first star swims in the pellucid sky. Soundless to listening ear, on grass and flowers, The footfall of the hours; Formless and void to sight The evolutions of invading night, The creeping onslaught and the gradual flight, Until the field is won, And we look forth to see that day is done. Then, from their grave of darkness, wood and lawn Wake to a second dawn. From unseen wells below 150 The pearly moon-tides rise and overflow, Till vale and peak and wide air-spaces glow In the transfiguring stream, And earth and life are but a heavenly dream. And now we hear the fairy-echoes fall Where distant curlews call, And how the silence thrills With the night-voices of the glens and hills, Rustling in reeds and tinkling in the rills, Bubbling in creek and pool Where frogs are wooing in the shallows cool. And more than these, in this delicious time, The melody sublime That inward spirit hears-The faint and far-off music of the spheres, Immortal harmonies, too fine for ears Dulled in the dusty ways, Deaf with the din of the laborious days. Whereto, responsive as the vibrant wire Of some aeolian lyre Fanned by celestial wings, The summoned soul in mystic concord brings The deep notes latent in its trembling strings, Joining the choir divine Of all the worlds that in the ether shine. O sacred hour! O sweet night, calm and fair! Thou dost rebuke despair; Thou dost assuage the pain Of passionate spirit and distempered brain, And with thy balms, distilled like gentle rain, Dost heal the fret and smart And nerve the courage of this coward's heart. 151 And lift me up, a Moses on the Mount To the pure source and fount Of law transcending law, Of life that hallows life. I know no more Of life's great Giver than I knew before, But these His creatures tell That He is living, and that all is well. Oh, to be there to-night! To see that rose of sunset flame and fade On ghostly mountain height, The soft dusk gathering each leaf and blade From the departing light, Each tree-fern feather of the wildwood glade. From arid streets to pass Down those green aisles where golden wattles bloom, Over the fragrant grass, And smell the eucalyptus in a gloom That is as clear as glass, The dew-fresh scents of bracken and of broom . . . These city clamours mute, To hear the woodland necromancers play Each his enchanted lute; That dear bird-laugh, so exquisitely gay, The magpie's silver flute In vesper carol to the dying day. To hear the live wind blow, The delicate stir and whisper of the trees As light breaths come and go, The brooklet murmuring to the vagrant breeze, The bull-frog twanging low His deep-toned mandolin to chime with these. 152 And then the whispering rills, The hushed lone wheel, or hoof, or axeman's tool; The brooding dark that stills The sweet Pan-piping of the grove and pool; The dimly glimmering hills; The sleeping night, so heavenly clean and cool. Oh, for that mother-breast That takes the broken spirit for repair, The worn-out brain for rest-That healing silence, that untainted air, That Peace of God . . . . . . Blest, blest The very memory that I once was there. The thought that someday yet, In flesh, not dreams, I may return again, And at those altars, set In the pure skies, above the smoky plain, Remember and forget The joy of living and its price of pain . . . . . . That sullied earth reserves Such spacious refuge virgin and apart, That wasting life preserves Such sweet retreat for the distracted heart, Such fount of strength for nerves Torn in the ruthless struggle of the mart . . . . . . That Government divine O'er all this reek of blunders and of woes Keeps an unravaged shrine Not here, not there, but in the souls of those Who neither weep nor whine, But trust the guidance of the One Who Knows. 153 ~ Ada Cambridge,

293: Liminary The hollow crystal of my winter dream and silences, where thought for worship, white, shimmer'd within the icy mirror-gleam, vanishes down the flood of broader light. The royal weft of arduous device and starr'd with strangest gems, my shadowy pride and ritual of illusive artifice is shed away, leaving the naked side. No more is set within the secret shrine a wonder wherein day nor night has part; my passing makes the ways of earth divine with the wild splendours of a mortal heart. A whisper thrills the living fringe of green on my retreat; tiptoe the silence stands; the breathless morn waits till her step be seen, my summer bride, new life from nuptial lands. The hidden places of her beauty hold the savours shed o'er wastes of island air, and her crown'd body's wealth of torrid gold burns dusky in her summer-storm of hair. Her breasts in baffling curves, an upward hope, strain towards the lips pain'd with too eager life, and the rich noons faint on each lustrous slope where thunder-hush in the ardent brake is rife. I cannot tell what god is in her gaze, such depths of slumbrous passion drown my breath, but where the charmed shadow clings and stays Fate cowers before that high disdain of death. Oh, take me to thy bosom's sultry beat, steep all my sense in thy long breath of flame, oppress me with thy summer's heavy heat, consume all me that wears an uncrown'd name; burn this my flesh to a clear web of light, send thy keen airy spirit to search each vein, that the hard pulse may throb with strong delight, o'ermastering life and life's divinest pain. Then, then we twain will seek each farthest way, mingled in radiance over cloud and lea, our joy shall swell the exultant heart of day, 44 our love shall tinge the rose of sky and sea. And we shall know the steep pride of the hills and the dark meditation of the wood, or quench our rage where the red wine-god spills o'er glowing rocks the madness of his blood. Our link'd approach shall flush the water-maid that dreams her limpid realm with wistful eyes, our noon-tide rest shall haunt her memory's shade, vexing her dim breast with unwonted sighs. And where our fiercer joys have thrill'd the earth shall burst hard stalks and cruel cups that keep strong soul of seasons dead to fill the dearth of lesser lives whose dream is dull with sleep. And gloriously our summer's reign shall end: in some dark pass that leads into the west, burnt incense-wise, each blood shall sweetly blend, exhaled in music from the love-slain breast, some eve whose dragon-dying hides the sky and holds the hour on its empurpled wings, while pallid seers proclaim the doom-day nigh and shuddering nations watch the death of kings. See now the time (O eve of smoky brown!) the morbid season of my close content, drown'd flame, broad swathes of vapour closing down round the clear gaze that pierces, vainly pent, and knows how vain the hero-death that flung far flame against the craven face of dark (poor hero-heart the minstrel summer sung, O brooding hidden over a bitter cark!), how vain! did not the hot strength of the earth exude in drifts of colour, dwindling to dimmer odour-wafts, a hearted worth the long-defeated tribes to altar bring. The unslaked caravans of vast desire seeking in furnace-sands some fierier rose with deadly heart, the red crusades of ire following some dusky king of mighty woes unto a nameless fall in distant fight (such only freedom from the daily mesh spun by the crafty lord of wrong and right); the pride and splendour of rebellious flesh, full-sated with wild honey of summer's heart, 45 the golden lot of ignominy that cast and craved the honour of a menial part, to follow on bleeding feet, nor fell the last; how high their pyre blazed with insensate will that the last word of their red tale be told, and o'er their darkening blood, a moment, still, hung on horizon-wings the spirit's gold, the ghost of flame, in the vast crucible transmuted of some viewless Trismegist — haply the same whose touch, inaudible, dissolves the lingering leaf to evening mist. Now with the lucid flower-cups in their hands that star the pale fields of Thulean spring, and silver from the moon-made table-lands of snow, the glimmering distance vanishing, with opals that engeal the Boreal gleam and diamond-drip of ether's crystal thrill miraculous, the cortèges of dream over the hills of legend gathering, fill the imaginary avenues of gloom up to the watching windows that betray the House of Contemplation, vaulted room soaring, with shade that broods above pale day; pale day that wastes even since morning, drain'd by ambush'd mystery of its wanton breath: see now the time that rises, pale, unstain'd, the fixed light that charms the fields of death. A little yet, a little — wait, O files obedient to my dumb command — the brow may waive its frigid lordliness, the wiles of the spent heart becloud it — wait; and thou, dark presence, large above the passing world, biding the full hour of the fated stroke, ere in the sudden gust of truth be whirl'd the veils of kindly Maya, leaf or smoke, let their suspense of smouldering glory be yet mirror'd in this mind's unruffled pool or e'er beneath the implacable certainty of icy light and thought's untarnish'd rule the vacant world stand rigid; let me yet this vesper ween I am not all alone, and ponder with luxurious regret 46 over the singing golden morning flown: soon, soon enough the spirit, unreproved, shall on its proud predestin'd circle range, in dread indifferent solitude removed above the poignant pageantry of change, and the broad brows whose curves are centuries arise of Isis' carven front supreme that bids the lucid soul in silence freeze, the glittering crystal of my winter dream. ~ Christopher John Brennan,

294: At The Gate THE monastery towers, as pure and fair As virgin vows, reached up white hands to Heaven; The walls, to guard the hidden heart of prayer, Were strong as sin, and white as sin forgiven; And there came holy men, by world's woe driven; And all about the gold-green meadows lay Flower-decked, like children dear that keep May-holiday. 'Here,' said the Abbot, 'let us spend our days, Days sweetened by the lilies of pure prayer, Hung with white garlands of the rose of praise; And, lest the World should enter with her snare-Enter and laugh and take us unaware With her red rose, her purple and her gold-Choose we a stranger's hand the porter's keys to hold.' They chose a beggar from the world outside To keep their worldward door for them, and he, Filled with a humble and adoring pride, Built up a wall of proud humility Between the monastery's sanctity And the poor, foolish, humble folk who came To ask for love and care, in the dear Saviour's name. For when the poor crept to the guarded gate To ask for succour, when the tired asked rest, When weary souls, bereft and desolate, Craved comfort, when the murmur of the oppressed Surged round the grove where prayer had made her nest, The porter bade such take their griefs away, And at some other door their bane and burden lay. 'For this,' he said, 'is the white house of prayer, Where day and night the holy voices rise Through the chill trouble of our earthly air, And enter at the gate of Paradise. Trample no more our flower-fields in such wise, Nor crave the alms of our deep-laden bough; The prayers of holy men are alms enough, I trow.' 67 So, seeing that no sick or sorrowing folk Came ever to be healed or comforted, The Abbot to his brothers gladly spoke: 'God has accepted our poor prayers,' he said; 'Over our land His answering smile is spread. He has put forth His strong and loving hand, And sorrow and sin and pain have ceased in all the land. 'So make we yet more rich our hymns of praise, Warm we our prayers against our happy heart. Since God hath taken the gift of all our days To make a spell that bids all wrong depart, Has turned our praise to balm for the world's smart, Fulfilled of prayer and praise be every hour, For God transfigures praise, and transmutes prayer, to power.' So went the years. The flowers blossomed now Untrampled by the dusty, weary feet; Unbroken hung the green and golden bough, For none came now to ask for fruit or meat, For ghostly food, or common bread to eat; And dreaming, praying, the monks were satisfied, Till, God remembering him, the beggar-porter died. When they had covered up the foolish head, And on the foolish loving heart heaped clay, 'Which of us, brothers, now,' the Abbot said, 'Will face the world, to keep the world away?' But all their hearts were hard with prayer, and 'Nay,' They cried, 'ah, bid us not our prayers to leave; Ah, father, not to-day, for this is Easter Eve'. And, while they murmured, to their midst there came A beggar saying, 'Brothers, peace, be still! I am your Brother, in our Father's name, And I will be your porter, if ye will, Guarding your gate with what I have of skill'. So all they welcomed him and closed the door, And gat them gladly back unto their prayers once more. But, lo! no sooner did the prayer arise, 68 A golden flame athwart the chancel dim, Then came the porter crying, 'Haste, arise! A sick old man waits you to tend on him; And many wait--a knight whose wound gapes grim, A red-stained man, with red sins to confess, A mother pale, who brings her child for you to bless'. The brothers hastened to the gate, and there With unaccustomed hand and voice they tried To ease the body's pain, the spirit's care; But ere the task was done, the porter cried: 'Behold, the Lord sets your gate open wide, For here be starving folk who must be fed, And little ones that cry for love and daily bread!' And, with each slow-foot hour, came ever a throng Of piteous wanderers, sinful folk and sad, And still the brothers ministered, but long The day seemed, with no prayer to make them glad; No holy, meditative joys they had, No moment's brooding-place could poor prayer find, Mid all those heart to heal and all those wounds to bind. And when the crowded, sunlit day at last Left the field lonely with its trampled flowers, Into the chapel's peace the brothers passed To quell the memory of those hurrying hours. 'Our holy time,' they said, 'once more is ours! Come, let us pay our debt of prayer and praise, Forgetting in God's light the darkness of man's ways!' But, ere their voices reached the first psalm's end, They heard a new, strange rustling round their house; Then came the porter: 'Here comes many a friend, Pushing aside your budding orchard boughs; Come, brothers, justify your holy vows. Here be God's patient, poor, four-footed things Seek healing at God's well, whence loving-kindness springs.' Then cried the Abbot in a vexed amaze, 'Our brethren we must aid, if 'tis God's will; But the wild creatures of the forest ways 69 Himself God heals with His Almighty skill. And charity is good, and love--but still God shall not look in vain for the white prayers We send on silver feet to climb the starry stairs; 'For, of all worthy things, prayer has most worth, It rises like sweet incense up to heaven, And from God's hand falls back upon the earth, Being of heavenly bread the accepted leaven. Through prayer is virtue saved and sin forgiven; In prayer the impulse and the force are found That bring in purple and gold the fruitful seasons round. 'For prayer comes down from heaven in the sun That giveth life and joy to all things made; Prayer falls in rain to make broad rivers run And quickens the seeds in earth's brown bosom laid; By prayer the red-hung branch is earthward weighed, By prayer the barn grows full, and full the fold, For by man's prayer God works his wonders manifold.' The porter seemed to bow to the reproof; But when the echo of the night's last prayer Died in the mystery of the vaulted roof, A whispered memory in the hallowed air, The Abbot turned to find him standing there. 'Brother,' he said, 'I have healed the woodland things And they go happy and whole--blessing Love's ministerings, 'And, having healed them, I shall crave your leave To leave you--for to-night I journey far. But I have kept your gate this Easter Eve, And now your house to heaven shines like a star To show the Angels where God's children are; And in this day your house has served God more Than in the praise and prayer of all its years before. 'Yet I must leave you, though I fain would stay, For there are other gates I go to keep Of houses round whose walls, long day by day, Shut out of hope and love, poor sinners weep-Barred folds that keep out God's poor wandering sheep-- 70 I must teach these that gates where God comes in Must not be shut at all to pain, or want, or sin. 'The voice of prayer is very soft and weak, And sorrow and sin have voices very strong; Prayer is not heard in heaven when those twain speak, The voice of prayer faints in the voice of wrong By the just man endured--oh, Lord, how long?-If ye would have your prayers in heaven be heard, Look that wrong clamour not with too intense a word. 'But when true love is shed on want and sin, Their cry is changed, and grows to such a voice As clamours sweetly at heaven to be let in-Such sound as makes the saints in heaven rejoice; Pure gold of prayer, purged of the vain alloys Of idleness--that is the sound most dear Of all the earthly sounds God leans from heaven to hear. 'Oh, brother, I must leave thee, and for me The work is heavy, and the burden great. Thine be this charge I lay upon thee: See That never again stands barred thy abbey gate; Look that God's poor be not left desolate; Ah me! that chidden my shepherds needs must be When my poor wandering sheep have so great need of me. 'Brother, forgive thy Brother if he chide, Thy Brother loves thee--and has loved--for see The nails are in my hands, and in my side The spear-wound; and the thorns weigh heavily Upon my brow--brother, I died for thee-For thee, and for my sheep that are astray, And rose to live for thee, and them, on Easter Day!' 'My Master and my Lord!' the Abbot cried. But, where that face had been, shone the new day; Only on the marble by the Abbot's side, Where those dear feet had stood, a lily lay-A lily white for the white Easter Day. He sought the gate--no sorrow clamoured there-And, not till then, he dared to sink his soul in prayer. 71 And from that day himself he kept the gate Wide open; and the poor from far and wide, The weary, and wicked, and disconsolate, Came there for succour and were not denied; The sick were healed, the repentant sanctified; And from their hearts rises more prayer and praise Than ever the abbey knew in all its prayer-filled days. And there the Heavenly vision comes no more, Only, each Easter now, a lily sweet Lies white and dewy on the chancel floor Where once had stood the beloved wounded feet; And the old Abbot feels the nearing beat Of wings that bring him leave at last to go And meet his Master, where the immortal lilies grow. ~ Edith Nesbit,

295: Interim The room is full of you!—As I came in And closed the door behind me, all at once A something in the air, intangible, Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!— Sharp, unfamiliar odors have destroyed Each other room's dear personality. The heavy scent of damp, funereal flowers,— The very essence, hush-distilled, of Death— Has strangled that habitual breath of home Whose expiration leaves all houses dead; And wheresoe'er I look is hideous change. Save here. Here 'twas as if a weed-choked gate Had opened at my touch, and I had stepped Into some long-forgot, enchanted, strange, Sweet garden of a thousand years ago And suddenly thought, "I have been here before!" You are not here. I know that you are gone, And will not ever enter here again. And yet it seems to me, if I should speak, Your silent step must wake across the hall; If I should turn my head, that your sweet eyes Would kiss me from the door.—So short a time To teach my life its transposition to This difficult and unaccustomed key!— The room is as you left it; your last touch— A thoughtless pressure, knowing not itself As saintly—hallows now each simple thing; Hallows and glorifies, and glows between The dust's grey fingers like a shielded light. There is your book, just as you laid it down, Face to the table,—I cannot believe That you are gone!—Just then it seemed to me You must be here. I almost laughed to think How like reality the dream had been; Yet knew before I laughed, and so was still. That book, outspread, just as you laid it down! 62 Perhaps you thought, "I wonder what comes next, And whether this or this will be the end"; So rose, and left it, thinking to return. Perhaps that chair, when you arose and passed Out of the room, rocked silently a while Ere it again was still. When you were gone Forever from the room, perhaps that chair, Stirred by your movement, rocked a little while, Silently, to and fro... And here are the last words your fingers wrote, Scrawled in broad characters across a page In this brown book I gave you. Here your hand, Guiding your rapid pen, moved up and down. Here with a looping knot you crossed a "t," And here another like it, just beyond These two eccentric "e's." You were so small, And wrote so brave a hand! How strange it seems That of all words these are the words you chose! And yet a simple choice; you did not know You would not write again. If you had known— But then, it does not matter,—and indeed If you had known there was so little time You would have dropped your pen and come to me And this page would be empty, and some phrase Other than this would hold my wonder now. Yet, since you could not know, and it befell That these are the last words your fingers wrote, There is a dignity some might not see In this, "I picked the first sweet-pea to-day." To-day! Was there an opening bud beside it You left until to-morrow?—O my love, The things that withered,—and you came not back That day you filled this circle of my arms That now is empty. (O my empty life!) That day—that day you picked the first sweet-pea,— And brought it in to show me! I recall With terrible distinctness how the smell Of your cool gardens drifted in with you. I know, you held it up for me to see 63 And flushed because I looked not at the flower, But at your face; and when behind my look You saw such unmistakable intent You laughed and brushed your flower against my lips. (You were the fairest thing God ever made, I think.) And then your hands above my heart Drew down its stem into a fastening, And while your head was bent I kissed your hair. I wonder if you knew. (Beloved hands! Somehow I cannot seem to see them still. Somehow I cannot seem to see the dust In your bright hair.) What is the need of Heaven When earth can be so sweet?—If only God Had let us love,—and show the world the way! Strange cancellings must ink th' eternal books When love-crossed-out will bring the answer right! That first sweet-pea! I wonder where it is. It seems to me I laid it down somewhere, And yet,—I am not sure. I am not sure, Even, if it was white or pink; for then 'Twas much like any other flower to me Save that it was the first. I did not know Then, that it was the last. If I had known— But then, it does not matter. Strange how few, After all's said and done, the things that are Of moment. Few indeed! When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! "I had you and I have you now no more." There, there it dangles,—where's the little truth That can for long keep footing under that When its slack syllables tighten to a thought? Here, let me write it down! I wish to see Just how a thing like that will look on paper! "I had you and I have you now no more." O little words, how can you run so straight Across the page, beneath the weight you bear? How can you fall apart, whom such a theme Has bound together, and hereafter aid In trivial expression, that have been 64 So hideously dignified?—Would God That tearing you apart would tear the thread I strung you on! Would God—O God, my mind Stretches asunder on this merciless rack Of imagery! O, let me sleep a while! Would I could sleep, and wake to find me back In that sweet summer afternoon with you. Summer? Tis summer still by the calendar! How easily could God, if He so willed, Set back the world a little turn or two! Correct its griefs, and bring its joys again! We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out; Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre. And to-day The shining strip is rent; the exquisite Fine pattern is destroyed; part of your heart Aches in my breast; part of my heart lies chilled In the damp earth with you. I have been tom In two, and suffer for the rest of me. What is my life to me? And what am I To life,—a ship whose star has guttered out? A Fear that in the deep night starts awake Perpetually, to find its senses strained Against the taut strings of the quivering air, Awaiting the return of some dread chord? Dark, Dark, is all I find for metaphor; All else were contrast,—save that contrast's wall Is down, and all opposed things flow together Into a vast monotony, where night And day, and frost and thaw, and death and life, Are synonyms. What now—what now to me Are all the jabbering birds and foolish flowers That clutter up the world? You were my song! Now, let discord scream! You were my flower! Now let the world grow weeds! For I shall not 65 Plant things above your grave—(the common balm Of the conventional woe for its own wound!) Amid sensations rendered negative By your elimination stands to-day, Certain, unmixed, the element of grief; I sorrow; and I shall not mock my truth With travesties of suffering, nor seek To effigy its incorporeal bulk In little wry-faced images of woe. I cannot call you back; and I desire No utterance of my immaterial voice. I cannot even turn my face this way Or that, and say, "My face is turned to you"; I know not where you are, I do not know If Heaven hold you or if earth transmute, Body and soul, you into earth again; But this I know:—not for one second's space Shall I insult my sight with visionings Such as the credulous crowd so eager-eyed Beholds, self-conjured, in the empty air. Let the world wail! Let drip its easy tears! My sorrow shall be dumb! What do I say? God! God!—God pity me! Am I gone mad That I should spit upon a rosary? Am I become so shrunken? Would to God I too might feel that frenzied faith whose touch Makes temporal the most enduring grief; Though it must walk a while, as is its wont, With wild lamenting! Would I too might weep Where weeps the world and hangs its piteous wreaths For its new dead! Not Truth, but Faith, it is That keeps the world alive. If all at once Faith were to slacken,—that unconscious faith Which must, I know, yet be the corner-stone Of all believing,—birds now flying fearless Across would drop in terror to the earth; Fishes would drown; and the all-governing reins Would tangle in the frantic hands of God And the worlds gallop headlong to destruction! 66 O God, I see it now, and my sick brain Staggers and swoons! How often over me Flashes this breathlessness of sudden sight In which I see the universe unrolled Before me like a scroll and read thereon Chaos and Doom, where helpless planets whirl Dizzily round and round and round and round, Like tops across a table, gathering speed With every spin, to waver on the edge One instant—looking over—and the next To shudder and lurch forward out of sight— Ah, I am worn out—I am wearied out— It is too much—I am but flesh and blood, And I must sleep. Though you were dead again, I am but flesh and blood and I must sleep. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay,

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

50

   9 Occultism
   2 Philosophy
   2 Kabbalah
   2 Integral Yoga
   1 Yoga


   15 Sri Aurobindo
   9 Aleister Crowley
   4 The Mother
   2 Sri Ramakrishna
   2 Nolini Kanta Gupta


   9 Savitri
   8 The Synthesis Of Yoga
   6 The Life Divine
   6 Liber ABA
   5 Essays On The Gita
   3 The Mothers Agenda
   3 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
   3 Magick Without Tears
   3 Letters On Yoga I
   3 Essays Divine And Human
   2 The Secret Doctrine
   2 Theosophy
   2 The Integral Yoga
   2 Essays In Philosophy And Yoga
   2 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
   2 Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E

01.01_-_The_One_Thing_Needful, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      ... the principle of this Yoga is not perfection of the human nature as it is but a psychic and spiritual transformation of all the parts of the being through the action of an inner consciousness and then of a higher consciousness which works on them, throws out the old movements or changes them into the image of its own and so transmutes lower into higher nature. It is not so much the perfection of the intellect as a transcendence of it, a transformation of the mind, the substitution of a larger greater principle of knowledge - and so with all the rest of the being.     This is a slow and difficult process; the road is long and it is hard to establish even the necessary basis. The old existing nature resists and obstructs and difficulties rise one after another and repeatedly till they are overcome. It is therefore necessary to be sure that this is the path to which one is called before one finally decides to tread it.

01.03_-_The_Yoga_of_the_King_The_Yoga_of_the_Souls_Release, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   And life's incessant signals of event,   transmuted chance recurrences into laws,   A chaos of signs into a universe.   --   Filling earth's smallness with their boundless breadths,   He drew the energies that transmute an age.   Immeasurable by the common look,

02.03_-_The_Glory_and_the_Fall_of_Life, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   That Nescience may become omniscient,   transmuted instincts shape to divine thoughts,   Thoughts house infallible immortal sight

02.06_-_The_Kingdoms_and_Godheads_of_the_Greater_Life, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Track the last heavenward climbings of her voice.   transmuted are past suffering's memories   Into an old sadness's sweet escaping trail:

03.04_-_The_Vision_and_the_Boon, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Foreshadowed in her dumb and fiery depths,   A godhead drawn from her transmuted limbs,   An alchemy of Heaven on Nature's base.

04.03_-_The_Call_to_the_Quest, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   All knowledge rushes on him like a sea:   transmuted by the white spiritual ray   He walks in naked heavens of joy and calm,

05.02_-_Satyavan, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Her mind at first dwelt in ideal dreams,   Those intimate transmuters of earth's signs   That make known things a hint of unseen spheres,

06.02_-_The_Way_of_Fate_and_the_Problem_of_Pain, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   She too must share the human need of grief   And all her cause of joy transmute to pain.

07.04_-_The_Triple_Soul-Forces, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Uplift the stature of the human clay   Or slowly transmute it into heaven's gold.

10.03_-_The_Debate_of_Love_and_Death, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      As if transmuted by a titan spell   The eternal Powers assumed a dubious face:   --   Has occupied my body and my sense:   It takes the world's grief and transmutes to strength,   It makes the world's joy one with the joy of God.

1.00_-_Gospel, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism      The average man wishes to enjoy the material objects of the world. Tantra bids him enjoy these, but at the same time, discover in them the presence of God. Mystical rites are prescribed by which, slowly, the sense objects become spiritualized and sense attraction is transformed into a love of God. So the very "bonds" of man are turned into "releasers". The very poison that kills is transmuted into the elixir of life. Outward renunciation is not necessary. Thus, the aim of Tantra is to sublimate Bhoga, or enjoyment, into Yoga, or union with Consciousness. For, according to this philosophy, the world with all its manifestations is nothing but the sport of iva and akti, the Absolute and Its inscrutable Power.

1.00_-_Main, #Book of Certitude, #Baha u llah, #Baha i      The day is approaching when thy agitation will have been transmuted into peace and quiet calm. Thus hath it been decreed in the wondrous Book.

1.02.3.2_-_Knowledge_and_Ignorance, #Isha Upanishad, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   united, that which they strive to express delivered, fulfilled and   in the fulfilment transmuted and transfigured.   In the uttermost unity of which knowledge is capable the

1.02_-_Self-Consecration, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      9:The very aim and conception of an integral Yoga debars us from adopting this simple and strenuous high-pitched process. The hope of an integral transformation forbids us to take a short cut or to make ourselves light for the race by throwing away our impediments. For we have set out to conquer all ourselves and the world for God; we are determined to give him our becoming as well as our being and not merely to bring the pure and naked spirit as a bare offering to a remote and secret Divinity in a distant heaven or abolish all we are in a holocaust to an immobile Absolute. The Divine that we adore is not only a remote extracosmic Reality, but a half-veiled Manifestation present and near to us here in the universe. Life is the field of a divine manifestation not yet complete: here, in life, on earth, in the body, -- ihaiva, as the Upanishads insist, -- we have to unveil the Godhead; here we must make its transcendent greatness, light and sweetness real to our consciousness, here possess and, as far as may be, express it. Life then we must accept in our Yoga in order utterly to transmute it; we are forbidden to shrink from the difficulties that this acceptance may add to our struggle. Our compensation is that even if the path is more rugged, the effort more complex and bafflingly arduous, yet after a point we gain an immense advantage. For once our minds are reasonably fixed in the central vision and our wills are on the whole converted to the single pursuit. Life becomes our helper. Intent, vigilant, integrally conscious, we can take every detail of its forms and every incident of its movements as food for the sacrificial Fire within us. Victorious in the struggle, we can compel Earth herself to be an aid towards our perfection and can enrich our realisation with the booty torn from the powers that oppose us.      --      22:When once the object of concentration has possessed and is possessed by the three master instruments, the thought, the heart and the will, -- a consummation fully possible only when the desire-soul in us has submitted to the Divine Law, -- the perfection of mind and life and body can be effectively fulfilled in our transmuted nature. This will be done, not for the personal satisfaction of the ego, but that the whole may constitute a fit temple for the Divine Presence, a faultless instrument for the divine work. For the work can be truly performed only when the instrument, consecrated and perfected, has grown fit for a selfless action, -- and that will be when personal desire and egoism are abolished, but not the liberated individual. Even when the little ego has been abolished, the true Spiritual Person can still remain and God's will and work and delight in him and the spiritual use of his perfection and fulfilment. Our works will then be divine and done divinely; our mind arid life and will, devoted to the Divine, will be used to help fulfil in others and in the world that which has been first realised in ourselves, -all that we can manifest of the embodied Unity, Love, Freedom, Strength, Power, Splendour, immortal Joy which is the goal of the spirit's terrestrial adventure.      --      25:For here, there are two movements with a transitional stage between them, two periods of this Yoga, -- one of the process of surrender, the other of its crown and consequence. In the first the individual prepares himself for the reception o? the Divine into his members. For all this first period he has to work by means of the instruments of the lower Nature, but aided more and more from above. But in the later transitional stage of this movement our personal and necessarily ignorant effort more and more dwindles and a higher Nature acts; the eternal shakti descends into this limited form of mortality and progressively possesses and transmutes it. In the second period the greater movement wholly replaces the lesser, formerly indispensable first action; but this can be done only when our self-surrender is complete. The ego person in us cannot transform itself by its own force or will or knowledge or by any virtue of its own into the nature of the Divine; all it can do is to fit itself for the transformation and make more and more its surrender to that which it seeks to become. As long as the ego is at work in us, our personal action is and must always be in its nature a part of the lower grades of existence; it is obscure or half-enlightened, limited in its field, very partially effective in its power. If a spiritual transformation, not a mere illumining modification of our nature, is to be done at all, we must call in the Divine shakti to effect that miraculous work in the individual; for she alone has the needed force, decisive, all-wise and illimitable. But the entire substitution of the divine for the human personal action is not at once entirely possible. All interference from below that would falsify the truth of the superior action must first be inhibited or rendered impotent, and it must be done by our own free choice. A continual and always repeated refusal of the impulsions and falsehoods of the lower nature is asked from us and an insistent support to the Truth as it grows in our parts: for the progressive settling into our nature and final perfection of the incoming informing Light, Purity and Power needs for its development and sustenance our free acceptance of it and our stubborn rejection of all that is contrary to it, inferior or incompatible.

1.02_-_The_Stages_of_Initiation, #Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, #Rudolf Steiner, #Theosophy      Let the student fully realize that this invisible something will transmute itself later on into a visible plant, which he will have before him in its    p. 62

1.03_-_Self-Surrender_in_Works_-_The_Way_of_The_Gita, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   91    ego and to enthrone God in its place as the ruling Inhabitant of the nature. And this means, first, to disinherit desire and no longer accept the enjoyment of desire as the ruling human motive. The spiritual life will draw its sustenance not from desire but from a pure and selfless spiritual delight of essential existence. And not only the vital nature in us whose stamp is desire, but the mental being too must undergo a new birth and a transfiguring change. Our divided, egoistic, limited and ignorant thought and intelligence must disappear; in its place there must stream in the catholic and faultless play of a shadowless divine illumination which shall culminate in the end in a natural self-existent Truth-consciousness free from groping half-truth and stumbling error. Our confused and embarrassed ego-centred small-motived will and action must cease and make room for the total working of a swiftly powerful, lucidly automatic, divinely moved and guided unfallen Force. There must be implanted and activised in all our doings a supreme, impersonal, unfaltering and unstumbling will in spontaneous and untroubled unison with the will of the Divine. The unsatisfying surface play of our feeble egoistic emotions must be ousted and there must be revealed instead a secret deep and vast psychic heart within that waits behind them for its hour; all our feelings, impelled by this inner heart in which dwells the Divine, will be transmuted into calm and intense movements of a twin passion of divine   Love and manifold Ananda. This is the definition of a divine humanity or a supramental race. This, not an exaggerated or even a sublimated energy of human intellect and action, is the type of the superman whom we are called to evolve by our Yoga.   --   But if this total conversion is to be done, there must be a consecration of our actions and outer movements as much as of our mind and heart to the Divine. There must be accepted and progressively accomplished a surrender of our capacities of working into the hands of a greater Power behind us and our sense of being the doer and worker must disappear. All must be given for a more direct use into the hands of the divine Will which is hidden by these frontal appearances; for by that permitting Will alone is our action possible. A hidden Power is the true Lord and overruling Observer of our acts and only he knows through all the ignorance and perversion and deformation brought in by the ego their entire sense and ultimate purpose. There must be effected a complete transformation of our limited and distorted egoistic life and works into the large and direct outpouring of a greater divine Life, Will and Energy that now secretly supports us. This greater Will and Energy must be made conscious in us and master; no longer must it remain, as now, only a superconscious, upholding and permitting Force. There must be achieved an undistorted transmission through us of the all-wise purpose and process of a now hidden omniscient Power and omnipotent   Knowledge which will turn into its pure, unobstructed, happily consenting and participating channel all our transmuted nature.

1.03_-_The_Sephiros, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism      The Zohar itself speaks of a divine spiritual influence called NbTB Mezla, which descends from Keser to Malleus, by way of the Paths, vivifying and sustaining all things. By endeavouring to implant the roots of this living tree in our own consciousness, tending it daily with devo- tion, tenderness, and perseverance, almost imperceptibly we shall find new spiritual knowledge springing up spon- taneously within us. The universe will then begin to appear as a synthetic homogeneous Whole, and the student will discover that the sum total of his knowledge will become unified, and find himself able to transmute even on the intellectual plane the Many into the One. This is, in the long run, discarding all the inessentials, the goal of every mystic, no matter by which of the names he denomi- nates his Path, and which of the various by-roads he follows.

1.04_-_Body,_Soul_and_Spirit, #Theosophy, #Rudolf Steiner, #Theosophy      then, through the power it gains as partaker of the spiritual world, become ruler in the world of impulses, desires, etc. In proportion to the extent to which it has become this the spirit-self appears in the astral-body. And the astral-body becomes thereby transmuted. The astral-body itself then becomes visible as a two-membered body, an untransmuted and a transmuted. One can therefore designate the spirit-self, as manifested in man, as transmuted astral-body.      A similar process takes place in a person when he receives the life spirit into his I. The Life-body then becomes transmuted. It becomes penetrated with the life-spirit. And the Life-spirit reveals itself in that the life-body becomes quite other than it was. For this reason one can also say that life-spirit is transmuted life-body. And if the I receives the spirit-man, it thereby receives the strong force with which to penetrate the physical body. Naturally, that part of the physical body thus transmuted is not perceptible to the physical senses. It is, in fact, just that part of the physical body which has been spiritualized that has become the spirit-man.      --      5. Spirit-self as transmuted astral-body.

1.04_-_The_Core_of_the_Teaching, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   In other words, the Gita is not a book of practical ethics, but of the spiritual life. The modern mind is just now the European mind, such as it has become after having abandoned not only the philosophic idealism of the highest Graeco-Roman culture from which it started, but the Christian devotionalism of the Middle   Ages; these it has replaced by or transmuted into a practical idealism and social, patriotic and philanthropic devotion. It has got rid of God or kept Him only for Sunday use and erected in   His place man as its deity and society as its visible idol. At its best it is practical, ethical, social, pragmatic, altruistic, humanitarian. Now all these things are good, are especially needed at the present day, are part of the divine Will or they would not have become so dominant in humanity. Nor is there any reason why the divine man, the man who lives in the Brahmic consciousness, in the God-being should not be all of these things in his action; he will be, if they are the best ideal of the age, the

1.05_-_Bhakti_Yoga, #Amrita Gita, #Swami Sivananda Saraswati, #Hinduism      30. Bhakti is immortalising nectar. It transmutes a man into divinity. It makes him perfect. It bestows on him everlasting peace and bliss.   THUS ENDS BHAKTI YOGA

1.05_-_CHARITY, #The Perennial Philosophy, #Aldous Huxley, #Philosophy      It is by means of tranquillity of mind that you are able to transmute this false mind of death and rebirth into the clear Intuitive Mind and, by so doing, to realize the primal and enlightening Essence of Mind. You should make this your starting-point for spiritual practices. Having harmonized your starting-point with your goal, you will be able by right practice to attain your true end of perfect Enlightenment.

1.05_-_The_Ascent_of_the_Sacrifice_-_The_Psychic_Being, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      There are two signs of the transformation of the seeker's mind of knowledge and works of knowledge from the process of the Ignorance to the process of a liberated consciousness working partly, then wholly in the light of the Spirit. There is first a central change of the consciousness and a growing direct experience, vision, feeling of the Supreme and the cosmic existence, the Divine in itself and the Divine in all things; the mind will be taken up into a growing preoccupation with this first and foremost and will feel itself heightening, widening into a more and more illumined means of expression of the one fundamental knowledge. But also the central Consciousness in its turn will take up more and more the outer mental activities of knowledge and turn them into a parcel of itself or an annexed province; it will infuse into them its more authentic movement and make a more and more spiritualised and illumined mind its instrument in these surface fields, its new conquests, as well as in its own deeper spiritual empire. And this will be the second sign, the sign of a certain completion and perfection, that the Divine himself has become the Knower and all the inner movements, including the activities of what was once a purely human mental action, have become his field of knowledge. There will be less and less individual choice, opinion, preference, less and less of intellectualisation, mental weaving, cerebral galley-slave labour; a Light within will see all that has to be seen, know all that has to be known, develop, create, organise. It will be the inner Knower who will do in the liberated and universalised mind of the individual the works of an all-comprehending knowledge.      These two changes are the signs of a first effectuation in which the activities of the mental nature are lifted up, spiritualised, widened, universalised, liberated, led to a consciousness of their true purpose as an instrumentation of the Divine creating and developing its manifestation in the temporal universe. But this cannot be the whole scope of the transformation; for it is not in these limits that the integral seeker can cease from his ascension or confine the widening of his nature. For, if it were so, knowledge would still remain a working of the mind, liberated, universalised, spiritualised, but still, as all mind must be, comparatively restricted, relative, imperfect in the very essence of its dynamism; it would reflect luminously great constructions of Truth, but not move in the domain where Truth is authentic, direct, sovereign and native. There is an ascension still to be made from this height, by which the spiritualised mind will exceed itself and transmute into a supramental power of knowledge. Already in the process of spiritualisation it will have begun to pass out of the brilliant poverty of the human intellect; it will mount successively into the pure broad reaches of a higher mind and next into the gloaming belts of a still greater free intelligence illumined with a Light from above. At this point it will begin to feel more freely, admit with a less mixed response the radiant beginnings of an Intuition, not illumined, but luminous in itself, true in itself, no longer entirely mental and therefore subjected to the abundant intrusion of error. Here too is not an end, for it must rise beyond into the very domain of that untruncated Intuition, the first direct light from the self-awareness of essential Being and, beyond it, attain that from which this light comes. For there is an overmind behind Mind, a Power more original and dynamic which supports Mind, sees it as a diminished radiation from itself, uses it as a transmitting belt of passage downward or an instrument for the creations of the Ignorance. The last step of the ascension would be the surpassing of overmind itself or its return into its own still greater origin, its conversion into the supramental light of the Divine Gnosis. For there in the supramental Light is the seat of the divine Truth-Consciousness that has native in it, as no other consciousness below it can have, the power to organise the works of a Truth which is no longer .tarnished by the shadow of the cosmic Inconscience and Ignorance. There to reach and thence to bring down a supramental dynamism that can transform the Ignorance is the distant but imperative supreme goal of the integral Yoga.      As the light of each of these higher powers is turned upon the human activities of knowledge, any distinction of sacred and profane, human and divine, begins more and more to fade until it is finally abolished as otiose; for whatever is touched and thoroughly penetrated by the Divine Gnosis is transfigured and becomes a movement of its own Light and Power, free from the turbidity and limitations of the lower intelligence. It is not a separation of some activities, but a transformation of them all by the change of the informing consciousness that is the way of liberation, an ascent of the sacrifice of knowledge to a greater and ever greater light and force. All the works of mind and intellect must be first heightened and widened, then illumined, lifted into the domain of a higher Intelligence, afterwards translated into workings of a greater non-mental Intuition, then again transformed into the dynamic outpourings of the overmind radiance, and these transfigured into the full light and sovereignty of the supramental Gnosis. It is this that the evolution of consciousness in the world carries prefigured but latent in its seed and in the straining tense intention of its process; nor can that process, that evolution cease till it has evolved the instruments of a perfect in place of its now imperfect manifestation of the Spirit.

1.06_-_The_Ascent_of_the_Sacrifice_2_The_Works_of_Love_-_The_Works_of_Life, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      There are those even to whom all cult and form are for this reason suspect and offensive; but few can dispense with the support of outward symbols and, even, a certain divine element in human nature demands them always for the completeness of its spiritual satisfaction. Always the symbol is legitimate in so far as it is true, sincere, beautiful and delightful, and even one may say that a spiritual consciousness without any aesthetic or emotional content is not entirely or at any rate not integrally spiritual. In the spiritual life the basis of the act is a spiritual consciousness perennial and renovating, moved to express itself always in new forms or able to renew the truth of a form always by the flow of the spirit, and to so express itself and make every action a living symbol of some truth of the soul is the very nature of its creative vision and impulse. It is so that the spiritual seeker must deal with life and transmute its form and glorify it in its essence.      --      All Beauty in the world is there the beauty of the Beloved, and all forms of beauty have to stand under the light of that eternal Beauty and submit themselves to the sublimating and transfiguring power of the unveiled Divine Perfection. All Bliss and Joy are there of the All-Blissful, and all inferior forms of enjoyment, happiness or pleasure are subjected to the shock of the intensity of its floods or currents and either they are broken to pieces as inadequate things under its convicting stress or compelled to transmute themselves into the forms of the Divine Ananda. Thus for the individual consciousness a Force is manifested which can deal sovereignly in it with the diminutions and degradations of the values of the Ignorance. At last it begins to be possible to bring down into life the immense reality and intense concreteness of the love and joy that are of the Eternal. Or at any rate it will be possible for our spiritual consciousness to raise itself out of mind into the supramental Light and Force and Vastness; there in the light and potency of the supramental Gnosis are the splendour and joy of a power of divine self-expression and selforganisation which could rescue and re-create even the world of the Ignorance into a figure of the Truth of the Spirit.

1.06_-_The_Literal_Qabalah, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism   K* Sh is the Holy Spirit, his Divine Self which has been successfully invoked in the thaumaturgic rites, p Q is X   Pisces, the Fishes ; representing the regenerated sex force, or libido, transmuted into the Kundalini which Madame   Blavatsky informs us is an electric spiritual force, the great pristine creative power.

1.07_-_Standards_of_Conduct_and_Spiritual_Freedom, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      13:The existence of a social law external to the individual is at different times a considerable advantage and a heavy disadvantage to the development of the divine in man. It is an advantage at first when man is crude and incapable of selfcontrol and self-finding, because it erects a power other than that of his personal egoism through which that egoism may be induced or compelled to moderate its savage demands, to discipline its irrational and often violent movements and even to lose itself sometimes in a larger and less personal egoism. It is a disadvantage to the adult spirit ready to transcend the human formula because it is an external standard which seeks to impose itself on him from outside, and the condition of his perfection is that he shall grow from within and in an increasing freedom, not by the suppression but by the transcendence of his perfected individuality, not any longer by a law imposed on him that trains and disciplines his members but by the soul from within breaking through all previous forms to possess with its light and transmute his members.      --      15:In primitive societies the individual life is submitted to rigid and immobile communal custom and rule; this is the ancient and would-be eternal law of the human pack that tries always to masquerade as the everlasting decree of the Imperishable, es.a dharmah. sanatanah.. And the ideal is not dead in the human mind; the most recent trend of human progress is to establish an enlarged and sumptuous edition of this ancient turn of collective living towards the enslavement of the human spirit. There is here a serious danger to the integral development of a greater truth upon earth and a greater life. For the desires and free seekings of the individual, however egoistic, however false or perverted they may be in their immediate form, contain in their obscure shell the seed of a development necessary to the whole; his searchings and stumblings have behind them a force that has to be kept and transmuted into the image of the divine ideal. That force needs to be enlightened and trained but must not be suppressed or harnessed exclusively to society's heavy cartwheels. Individualism is as necessary to the final perfection as the power behind the group-spirit; the stifling of the individual may well be the stifling of the god in man. And in the present balance of humanity there is seldom any real danger of exaggerated individualism breaking up the social integer. There is continually a danger that the exaggerated pressure of the social mass by its heavy unenlightened mechanical weight may suppress or unduly discourage the free development of the individual spirit. For man in the individual can be more easily enlightened, conscious, open to clear influences; man in the mass is still obscure, halfconscious, ruled by universal forces that escape its mastery and its knowledge.

1.07_-_The_Ego_and_the_Dualities, #The Life Divine, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   1:IF ALL is in truth Sachchidananda, death, suffering, evil, limitation can only be the creations, positive in practical effect, negative in essence, of a distorting consciousness which has fallen from the total and unifying knowledge of itself into some error of division and partial experience. This is the fall of man typified in the poetic parable of the Hebrew Genesis. That fall is his deviation from the full and pure acceptance of God and himself, or rather of God in himself, into a dividing consciousness which brings with it all the train of the dualities, life and death, good and evil, joy and pain, completeness and want, the fruit of a divided being. This is the fruit which Adam and Eve, Purusha and Prakriti, the soul tempted by Nature, have eaten. The redemption comes by the recovery of the universal in the individual and of the spiritual term in the physical consciousness. Then alone the soul in Nature can be allowed to partake of the fruit of the tree of life and be as the Divine and live for ever. For then only can the purpose of its descent into material consciousness be accomplished, when the knowledge of good and evil, joy and suffering, life and death has been accomplished through the recovery by the human soul of a higher knowledge which reconciles and identifies these opposites in the universal and transforms their divisions into the image of the divine Unity.   2:To Sachchidananda extended in all things in widest commonalty and impartial universality, death, suffering, evil and limitation can only be at the most reverse terms, shadow-forms of their luminous opposites. As these things are felt by us, they are notes of a discord. They formulate separation where there should be a unity, miscomprehension where there should be an understanding, an attempt to arrive at independent harmonies where there should be a self-adaptation to the orchestral whole. All totality, even if it be only in one scheme of the universal vibrations, even if it be only a totality of the physical consciousness without possession of all that is in movement beyond and behind, must be to that extent a reversion to harmony and a reconciliation of jarring opposites. On the other hand, to Sachchidananda transcendent of the forms of the universe the dual terms themselves, even so understood, can no longer be justly applicable. Transcendence transfigures; it does not reconcile, but rather transmutes opposites into something surpassing them that effaces their oppositions.   3:At first, however, we must strive to relate the individual again to the harmony of the totality. There it is necessary for us - otherwise there is no issue from the problem - to realise that the terms in which our present consciousness renders the values of the universe, though practically justified for the purposes of human experience and progress, are not the sole terms in which it is possible to render them and may not be the complete, the right, the ultimate formulas. Just as there may be sense-organs or formations of sense-capacity which see the physical world differently and it may well be better, because more completely, than our sense-organs and sense-capacity, so there may be other mental and supramental envisagings of the universe which surpass our own. States of consciousness there are in which Death is only a change in immortal Life, pain a violent backwash of the waters of universal delight, limitation a turning of the Infinite upon itself, evil a circling of the good around its own perfection; and this not in abstract conception only, but in actual vision and in constant and substantial experience. To arrive at such states of consciousness may, for the individual, be one of the most important and indispensable steps of his progress towards self-perfection.

1.07_-_The_Three_Schools_of_Magick_2, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy      There is thus in this School no attempt to deny that Nature is, as Zoroaster said, "a fatal and evil force"; but Nature is, so to speak, "the First Matter of the Work", which is to be transmuted into gold. The joy is a function of our own part in this alchemy. For this reason we find the boldest and most skillful adepts deliberately seeking out the most repugnant elements of Nature that their triumph may be the greater. The formula is evidently one of dauntless courage. It expresses the idea of vitality and manhood in its most dynamic sense.

1.10_-_The_Three_Modes_of_Nature, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      The Purusha can dictate a harmony for Nature to execute, not by interfering in her functions but by a conscious regard on her which she transmutes at once or after much difficulty into translating idea and dynamic impetus and significant figure.      An escape from the action of the two inferior gunas is very evidently indispensable if we are to transmute our present nature into a power and form of the divine consciousness and an instrument of its forces. Tamas obscures and prevents the light of the divine knowledge from penetrating into the dark and dull corners of our nature. Tamas incapacitates and takes

1.11_-_Higher_Laws, #Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, #Henry David Thoreau, #Philosophy      We are conscious of an animal in us, which awakens in proportion as our higher nature slumbers. It is reptile and sensual, and perhaps cannot be wholly expelled; like the worms which, even in life and health, occupy our bodies. Possibly we may withdraw from it, but never change its nature. I fear that it may enjoy a certain health of its own; that we may be well, yet not pure. The other day I picked up the lower jaw of a hog, with white and sound teeth and tusks, which suggested that there was an animal health and vigor distinct from the spiritual. This creature succeeded by other means than temperance and purity. That in which men differ from brute beasts, says Mencius, is a thing very inconsiderable; the common herd lose it very soon; superior men preserve it carefully. Who knows what sort of life would result if we had attained to purity? If I knew so wise a man as could teach me purity I would go to seek him forthwith. A command over our passions, and over the external senses of the body, and good acts, are declared by the Ved to be indispensable in the minds approximation to God. Yet the spirit can for the time pervade and control every member and function of the body, and transmute what in form is the grossest sensuality into purity and devotion. The generative energy, which, when we are loose, dissipates and makes us unclean, when we are continent invigorates and inspires us. Chastity is the flowering of man; and what are called Genius, Heroism, Holiness, and the like, are but various fruits which succeed it. Man flows at once to God when the channel of purity is open. By turns our purity inspires and our impurity casts us down. He is blessed who is assured that the animal is dying out in him day by day, and the divine being established. Perhaps there is none but has cause for shame on account of the inferior and brutish nature to which he is allied. I fear that we are such gods or demigods only as fauns and satyrs, the divine allied to beasts, the creatures of appetite, and that, to some extent, our very life is our disgrace.

1.12_-_The_Left-Hand_Path_.The_Black_Brothers., #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy        Herein no forms appear, and the vision of God face to face, that is transmuted in the Athanor called dissolution, or hammered into one in the forge of meditation, is in this place but a blasphemy and a mockery.

1.17_-_The_Transformation, #Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness, #Satprem, #Integral Yoga   The conversation of 1926 then introduces us to two material facts (and their spiritual basis) that are extremely important from the standpoint of transformation: first, that all earthly forms are made up of the same elements, and only different atomic arrangements account for the different features (this is the physical counterpart to the spiritual truth of the world's divine Oneness: "Thou art man and woman, boy and girl, old and worn thou walkest bent over a staff;   thou art the blue bird and the green and the scarlet-eyed"366 ); and second, that the solar fire in Matter is the material counterpart of the fundamental Agni, which, as Sri Aurobindo stressed in another part of the same conversation, is the builder of forms. To wield Agni is to be able to change forms, to transform Matter: "He tastes not that delight (of the twice-born) who is unripe and whose body has not suffered in the heat of the fire," says the Rig Veda; "they alone are able to bear that and enjoy it who have been prepared by the flame." (IX.83.1) It is the warm gold dust that will transmute its material counterpart, the nuclear dust in our body: The subtle process will be more powerful than the gross, so that a subtle action of Agni will be able to do the 366      --   right to recurrence. Often he finds that even after he has won persistently his own personal battle, he has still to win it over and over again in a seemingly interminable war, because his inner existence has already been so much enlarged that not only it contains his own being with its well-defined needs and experiences, but is in solidarity with the being of others, because in himself he contains the universe.386   Will the end of the work ever be reached? We might conclude that the subconscient is an endless sewer the rishis themselves called it "the bottomless pit" and that if we have to wait for it to be totally cleansed before we can achieve a supramental transformation, we might have to wait for a very long time, indeed. But this is only an appearance. The birth of a new individual does not bring with it a new load of subconscious or unconscious material; that individual merely draws from the common source, repeating the same vibrations which circle endlessly through the earth's atmosphere. Man cannot create new darkness any more than he can create new light. He is only an instrument whether conscious or unconscious of the one or of the other (though most often of both). No new vibrations can be brought into the world except those of the superconscious Future, which gradually become the present ones and dissolve or transmute the vibrations from our evolutionary past. Today's Subconscient and Inconscient are obviously less subconscious and unconscious than they were two thousand years ago, and we have all paid to bring about this result. This descent of the Future into the present is the key to the transmutation of the world. Yoga is the process of accelerating the Future, and the pioneer of evolution is the instrument who brings down more and more powerful vibrations. The task of the seeker,   therefore, is not so much a negative endeavor of scouring the Subconscient as it is a positive one of calling the light and bringing down the vibrations of the Future to accelerate the cleansing or purification process. This is what Sri Aurobindo calls "descent,"   --   whether they be Vedic, Orphic, Alchemical, or Catharist and to recover the whole truth of the two poles within a third position, which is neither that of the materialists nor that of the spiritualists. The ascent of man into heaven is not the key, but rather his ascent here into the spirit and the descent also of the spirit into his normal humanity and the transformation of this earthly nature. For that and not some post mortem salvation is the real new birth for which humanity waits as the crowning movement of its long, obscure and painful course.403   Sri Aurobindo brings us a message of hope. Ultimately, our present reign of gnomes is the sign of a new emergence. Our darkness and declines always signal the advent of a greater light, which had to descend to break the prevailing limits. There are only two ways of breaking the limits: through an excess of light or an excess of darkness, but while one draws our darkness up into the light and dissolves it, the other precipitates the light into our darkness and transmutes it. One way liberates a few individuals, while the other liberates the whole earth. Ten thousand years ago, a few giants among men had wrestled out the Secret of the world, but this was the privilege of a few initiates, while now we must all become initiates.   Ten thousand years ago reigned the Golden Age, while today everything seems to have been swallowed up in darkness. In truth,

12.05_-_Beauty, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      There is a certain state of Yogic consciousness in which all things become beautiful to the eye of the seer, simply because they spiritually are - because they are a rendering in line and form of the quality and force of existence, of the consciousness, of the Ananda that rules the worlds, - of the hidden Divine. What a thing is to the exterior sense may not be, often is not beautiful for the ordinary aesthetic vision, but the Yogin sees in it the something More which the external does not see, he sees the soul behind, the self and spirit, he sees to the lines, hues, harmonies and expressive dispositions which are not to the first surface sight visible or something that is in himself, transmutes it by adding out of his own being to it - as the artist too does something of the same kind but in another way. It is not quite that however, - what the Yogin sees, what the artist sees, is there - his is a transmuting vision because it is a revealing vision; he discovers behind what the object appears to be the something More that it is. And so from this point of view of a realised supreme harmony all is or can be subject-matter for the artist because in all he can discover and reveal the Beauty that is everywhere. Again we land ourselves in a devastating catholicity; for here too one cannot pull up short at any given line. It may be a hard saying that one must or may discover and reveal beauty in a pig or its poke or in a parish pump or an advertisement of somebody's pills, and yet something like that seems to be what modern Art and literature are trying with vigour and a conscientious labour to do. By extension one ought to be able to extract beauty equally well out of morality or social reform or a political caucus or allow at least that all these things can, if he wills, become legitimate subjects for the artist. Here too one cannot say that it is on condition he thinks of beauty only and does not make moralising or social reform or a political idea his main object. For if with that idea foremost in his mind he still produces a great work of art, discovering Beauty as he moves to his aim, proving himself in spite of his unaesthetic preoccupations a great artist, it is all we can justly ask from him - whatever his starting point - to be a creator of Beauty. Art is discovery and revelation of Beauty and we can say nothing more by way of prohibition or limiting rule.

1.2.12_-_Vigilance, #Letters On Yoga II, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   *   To give up restraint would be to give free play to the vital and that would mean leave for all kinds of forces to enter in. So long as there is not the supramental consciousness controlling and penetrating everything, in all the being from the overmind downwards, there is an ambiguous play of forces, and each force, however divine in origin, may be used by the Powers of light or intercepted as it passes through the mind and the vital by the Powers of darkness. Vigilance, discrimination, control cannot be abandoned till the complete victory has been won and the consciousness transmuted.

1.240_-_1.300_Talks, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism      D.: There are two kinds of desires - the baser and the nobler. Is it our duty to transmute the baser one to the nobler?   M.: Yes.

1.240_-_Talks_2, #unset, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   (2) Bhakti; and (3) Sraddha. Ichcha means satisfaction of bodily wants without attachment to the body (such as hunger and thirst and evacuation). Unless it is done meditation cannot progress. Bhakti and Sraddha are already known.   D.: There are two kinds of desires - the baser and the nobler. Is it our duty to transmute the baser one to the nobler?   M.: Yes.

1.25_-_Vanni_Fucci's_Punishment._Agnello_Brunelleschi,_Buoso_degli_Abati,_Puccio_Sciancato,_Cianfa_de'_Donati,_and_Guercio_Cavalcanti., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity   Because two natures never front to front   Has he transmuted, so that both the forms   To interchange their matter ready were.

1.3.5.04_-_The_Evolution_of_Consciousness, #Essays Divine And Human, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      From the clod and metal to the plant, from the plant to the animal, from the animal to man, so much has she completed of her journey; a huge stretch or a stupendous leap still remains before her. As from matter to life, from life to mind, so now she must pass from mind to supermind, from man to superman; this is the gulf that she has to bridge, the supreme miracle that she has to perform before she can rest from her struggle and discontent and stand in the radiance of that supreme consciousness, glorified, transmuted, satisfied with her labour.

1.55_-_Money, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy      The Third is Vau, the Son, the Sword, the moving, penetrating element, double in nature. For it is intellect, but also the result of Genius absorbed, interpreted, transmuted and applied through the virtue of the Cup to expand, to explain, to bring into conscious existence.

1.A_-_ANTHROPOLOGY,_THE_SOUL, #Philosophy of Mind, #G. W. F. Hegel, #Philosophy      The fact is that in the Idea of Life the self-externalism of nature is implicitly at an end: subjectivity is the very substance and conception of life - with this proviso, however, that its existence or objectivity is still at the same time forfeited to the away of self-externalism. It is otherwise with Mind. There, in the intelligible unity which exists as freedom, as absolute negativity, and not as the immediate or natural individual, the object or the reality of the intelligible unity is the unity itself; and so the selfexternalism, which is the fundamental feature of matter, has been completely dissipated and transmuted into universality, or the subjective ideality of the conceptual unity. Mind is the existent truth of matter the truth that matter itself has no truth.   A cognate question is that of the community of soul and body. This community (interdependence) was assumed as a fact, and the only problem was how to comprehend it. The usual answer, perhaps, was to call it an incomprehensible mystery; and, indeed, if we take them to be absolutely antithetical and absolutely independent, they are as impenetrable to each other as one piece of matter to another, each being supposed to be found only in the pores of the other, i.e. where the other is not - whence Epicurus, when attributing to the gods a residence in the pores, was consistent in not imposing on them any connection with the world. A somewhat different answer has been given by all philosophers since this relation came to be expressly discussed. Descartes, Malebranche, Spinoza, and Leibniz have all indicated God as this nexus. They meant that the finitude of soul and matter were only ideal and unreal distinctions; and, so holding, there philosophers took God, not, as so often is done, merely as another word for the incomprehensible, but rather as the sole true identity of finite mind and matter. But either this identity, as in the case of Spinoza, is too abstract, or, as in the case of Leibniz, though his Monad of monads brings things into being, it does so only by an act of judgement or choice. Hence, with Leibniz, the result is a distinction between soul and the corporeal (or material), and the identity is only like the copula of a judgement, and does not rise or develop into system, into the absolute syllogism.   --    410 The soul's making itself an abstract universal being, and reducing the particulars of feelings (and of consciousness) to a mere feature of its being is Habit. In this manner the soul has the contents in possession, and contains them in such manner that in these features it is not as sentient, nor does it stand in relationship with them as distinguishing itself from them, nor is absorbed in them, but has them and moves in them, without feeling or consciousness of the fact. The soul is freed from them, so far as it is not interested in or occupied with them: and whilst existing in these forms as its possession, it is at the same time open to be otherwise occupied and engaged - say with feeling and with mental consciousness in general.   This process of building up the particular and corporeal expressions of feeling into the being of the soul appears as a repetition of them, and the generation of habit as practice. For, this being of the soul, if in respect of the natural particular phase it be called an abstract universality to which the former is transmuted, is a reflexive universality ( 175); i.e. the one and the same, that recurs in a series of units of sensation, is reduced to unity, and this abstract unity expressly stated.   Habit like memory, is a difficult point in mental organization: habit is the mechanism of self-feeling, as memory is the mechanism of intelligence. The natural qualities and alterations of age, sleep, and waking are 'immediately' natural: habit, on the contrary, is the mode of feeling (as well as intelligence, will, etc., so far as they belong to self-feeling) made into a natural and mechanical existence. Habit is rightly called a second nature; nature, because it is an immediate being of the soul; a second nature, because it is an immediacy created by the soul, impressing and moulding the corporeality which enters

2.02_-_The_Synthesis_of_Devotion_and_Knowledge, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      He moves within the circle of the forms of Nature and has not the highest, not the transcendental and integral knowledge. Still by the constant upward aspiration in his ethical aim he in the end gets rid of the obscuration of sin which is the obscuration of rajasic desire and passion and acquires a purified nature capable of deliverance from the rule of the triple Maya. By virtue alone man cannot attain to the highest, but by virtue2 he can develop a first capacity for attaining to it, adhikara. For the crude rajasic or the dull tamasic ego is difficult to shake off and put below us; the sattwic ego is less difficult and at last, when it sufficiently subtilises and enlightens itself, becomes even easy to transcend, transmute or annihilate.

2.03_-_The_Eternal_and_the_Individual, #The Life Divine, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      This truth which we can see, though with difficulty and under considerable restrictions, even in the material world where the subtler and higher powers of being have to be excluded from our intellectual operations, becomes clearer and more powerful when we ascend in the scale. We see the truth of our classifications and distinctions, but also their limits. All things, even while different, are yet one. For practical purposes plant, animal, man are different existences; yet when we look deeper we see that the plant is only an animal with an insufficient evolution of self-consciousness and dynamic force; the animal is man in the making; man himself is that animal and yet the something more of self-consciousness and dynamic power of consciousness that make him man; and yet again he is the something more which is contained and repressed in his being as the potentiality of the divine, - he is a god in the making. In each of these, plant, animal, man, god, the Eternal is there containing and repressing himself as it were in order to make a certain statement of his being. Each is the whole Eternal concealed. Man himself, who takes up all that went before him and transmutes it into the term of manhood, is the individual human being and yet he is all mankind, the universal man acting in the individual as a human personality. He is all and yet he is himself and unique.

2.03_-_The_Purified_Understanding, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      In the first place we have seen that intellectual thought is in itself inadequate and is not the highest thinking; the highest is that which comes through the intuitive mind and from the supramental faculty. So long as we are dominated by the intellectual habit and by the lower workings, the intuitive mind can only send its messages to us subconsciously and subject to a distortion more or less entire before it reaches the conscious mind; or if it works consciously, then only with an inadequate rarity and a great imperfection in its functioning. In order to strengthen the higher knowledge-faculty in us we have to effect the same separation between the intuitive and intellectual elements of our thought as we have already effected between the understanding and the sense-mind; and this is no easy task, for not only do our intuitions come to us incrusted in the intellectual action, but there are a great number of mental workings which masquerade and ape the appearances of the higher faculty. The remedy is to train first the intellect to recognise the true intuilion, to distinguish it from the false and then to accustom it, when it arrives at an intellectual perception or conclusion, to attach no final value to it, but rather look upward, refer all to the divine principle and wait in as complete a silence as it can command for the light from above. In this way it is possible to transmute a great part of our intellectual thinking into the luminous truth-conscious vision, -- the ideal would be a complete transition, -- or at least to increase greatly the frequency, purity and conscious force of the ideal knowledge working behind the intellect. The latter must learn to be subject and passive to the ideal faculty.

2.05_-_The_Divine_Truth_and_Way, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Even if in the mind we feel them to be comparatively unreal in face of the absolutely   Real. Shankara's Mayavada apart from its logical scaffolding comes when reduced to terms of spiritual experience to no more than an exaggerated expression of this relative unreality. Beyond mind the difficulty disappears, for there it never existed. The separate experiences that lie behind the differences of religious sects and schools of philosophy or Yoga, transmuted, shed their divergent mental sequences, are harmonised and, when exalted to their highest common intensity, unified in the supramental infinite.

2.1.01_-_The_Parts_of_the_Being, #Letters On Yoga I, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   *   Everybody is an amalgamation not of two but of many personalities. It is a part of the Yogic perfection in this Yoga to accord and transmute them so as to "integrate" the personality.

2.14_-_INSTRUCTION_TO_VAISHNAVS_AND_BRHMOS, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism      Not yet is Father Nanda born as Jagannath; then why should I Be thus transmuted into gold?

2.18_-_The_Evolutionary_Process_-_Ascent_and_Integration, #The Life Divine, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   Sachchidananda. In ourselves, behind our surface natural being, there is a soul, an inner mind, an inner life-part which can open to these heights as well as to the occult spirit within us, and this double opening is the secret of a new evolution; by that breaking of lids and walls and boundaries the consciousness rises to a greater ascent and a larger integration which, as the evolution of mind has mentalised, so will by this new evolution spiritualise all the powers of our nature. For the mental man has not been Nature's last effort or highest reach, - though he has been, in general, more fully evolved in his own nature than those who have achieved themselves below or aspired above him; she has pointed man to a yet higher and more difficult level, inspired him with the ideal of a spiritual living, begun the evolution in him of a spiritual being. The spiritual man is her supreme supernormal effort of human creation; for, having evolved the mental creator, thinker, sage, prophet of an ideal, the self-controlled, self-disciplined, harmonised mental being, she has tried to go higher and deeper within and call out into the front the soul and inner mind and heart, call down from above the forces of the spiritual mind and higher mind and overmind and create under their light and by their influence the spiritual sage, seer, prophet, God-lover, Yogin, gnostic, Sufi, mystic.   This is man's only way of true self-exceeding: for so long as we live in the surface being or found ourselves wholly on Matter, it is impossible to go higher and vain to expect that there can be any new transition of a radical character in our evolutionary being. The vital man, the mental man have had an immense effect upon the earth-life, they have carried humanity forward from the mere human animal to what it is now. But it is only within the bounds of the already established evolutionary formula of the human being that they can act; they can enlarge the human circle but not change or transform the principle of consciousness or its characteristic operation. Any attempt to heighten inordinately the mental or exaggerate inordinately the vital man, - a Nietzschean supermanhood, for example, - can only colossalise the human creature, it cannot transform or divinise him. A different possibility opens if we can live within in the inner being and make it the direct ruler of life or station ourselves on the spiritual and intuitive planes of being and from there and by their power transmute our nature.   The spiritual man is the sign of this new evolution, this new and higher endeavour of Nature. But this evolution differs from the past process of the evolutionary Energy in two respects: it is conducted by a conscious effort of the human mind, and it is not confined to a conscious progression of the surface nature, but is accompanied by an attempt to break the walls of the Ignorance and extend ourselves inward into the secret principle of our present being and outward into cosmic being as well as upward towards a higher principle. Up till now what Nature had achieved was an enlarging of the bounds of our surface Knowledge-Ignorance; what is attempted in the spiritual endeavour is to abolish the Ignorance, to go inwards and discover the soul and to become united in consciousness with God and with all existence. This is the final aim of the mental stage of evolutionary Nature in man; it is the initial step towards a radical transmutation of the Ignorance into the Knowledge. The spiritual change begins by an influence of the inner being and the higher spiritual mind, an action felt and accepted on the surface; but this by itself can lead only to an illumined mental idealism or to the growth of a religious mind, a religious temperament and some devotion in the heart and piety in the conduct; it is a first approach of mind to spirit, but it cannot make a radical change: more has to be done, we have to live deeper within, we have to exceed our present consciousness and surpass our present status of Nature.

2.22_-_Vijnana_or_Gnosis, #unset, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      The reason has as its first instrument observation general, analytical, and synthetic; it aids itself by comparison, contrast and analogy, -proceeds from experience to indirect knowledge by logical processes of deduction, induction, all kinds of inference, -- rests upon memory, reaches out beyond itself by imagination, secures itself by judgment all is a process of groping and seeking. The gnosis does not seek, it possesses. Or if it has to enlighten, it does not even then seek; it reveals, it illumines. In a consciousness transmuted from Intelligence to gnosis, imagination would be replaced by truth-inspiration, mental judgment would give place to a self-luminous discerning. The slow and stumbling logical process from reasoning to conclusion would be pushed out by a swift intuitive proceeding; the conclusion or fact would be seen at once in its own right, by its own self-sufficient witness, and all the evidence by which we arrive at it would be seen too at once, along with it, in the same comprehensive figure, not as its evidence, but as its intimate conditions, connections and relations, its constituent parts or its wings of circumstance. Mental and sense observation would be changed into an inner vision using the instruments as channels, but not dependent oil them as the mind in us is blind and deaf without the physical senses, and this vision would see not merely the thing, but all its truth, its forces, powers, the eternities within it. Our uncertain memory would fall away and there would come in its place a luminous possession of knowledge, the divine memory that is not a store of acquisition, but holds all things always contained in the consciousness, a memory at once of past, present and future.

2.23_-_The_Core_of_the_Gita.s_Meaning, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga   The Supreme, the all-conscious Self, the Godhead, the Infinite is not solely a spiritual existence remote and ineffable; he is here in the universe at once hidden and expressed through man and the gods and through all beings and in all that is. And it is by finding him not only in some immutable silence but in the world and its beings and in all self and in all Nature, it is by raising to an integral as well as to a highest union with him all the activities of the intelligence, the heart, the will, the life that man can solve at once his inner riddle of self and God and the outer problem of his active human existence. Made   Godlike, God-becoming, he can enjoy the infinite breadth of a supreme spiritual consciousness that is reached through works no less than through love and knowledge. Immortal and free, he can continue his human action from that highest level and transmute it into a supreme and all-embracing divine activity,   - that indeed is the ultimate crown and significance here of all works and living and sacrifice and the world's endeavour.

2.24_-_Gnosis_and_Ananda, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      But the gnostic soul, the vijnanammaya purusa, is the first to participate not only in the freedom, but in the power and sovereignty of the Eternal. For it receives the fullness, it has the sense of plenitude of the Godhead in its action; it shares the free, splendid and royal march of the Infinite, is a vessel of the original knowledge, the immaculate power, the inviolable bliss, transmutes all life into the eternal Light and the eternal Fire and the eternal Wine of the nectar. It possesses the infinite of the Self and it possesses the infinite of Nature. It does not so much lose as find its nature self in the self of the Infinite. On the other planes to which the mental being has easier access, man finds God in himself and himself in God; he becomes divine in essence rather than in person or nature. In the gnosis, even the mentalised gnosis, the Divine Eternal possesses, changes and stamps the human symbol, envelops and partly finds himself in the person and nature. The mental being at most receives or reflects that which is true, divine and eternal; the gnostic soul reaches a true identity, possesses the spirit and power of the truth-Nature. In the gnosis the dualism of Purusha and prakriti, Soul and Nature, two separate powers complementary to each other, the great truth of the Sankhyas founded on the practical truth of our present natural existence, disappears in their biune entity, the dynamic mystery of the occult Supreme. The Truth-being is the Hara-Gauri481 of the Indian iconological symbol; it is the double Power masculine-feminine born from and supported by the supreme shakti of the Supreme.

2.24_-_The_Message_of_the_Gita, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga      "Next know that you are an eternal portion of the Eternal and the powers of your nature are nothing without him, nothing if not his partial self-expression. It is the Divine Infinite that is being progressively fulfilled in your nature. It is the supreme power-to-be, it is the Shakti of the Lord that shapes and takes shape in your swabhava. Give up then all sense that you are the doer; see the Eternal alone as the doer of the action. Let your natural being be an occasion, an instrument, a channel of power, a means of manifestation. Offer up your will to him and make it one with his eternal will: surrender all your actions in the silence of your self and spirit to the transcendent Master of your nature. This cannot be really done or done perfectly so long as there is any ego sense in you or any mental claim or vital clamour. Action done in the least degree for the sake of the ego or tinged with the desire and will of the ego is not a perfect sacrifice. Nor can this great thing be well and truly done so long as there is inequality anywhere or any stamp of ignorant shrinking and preference. But when there is a perfect equality to all works, results, things and persons, a surrender to the Highest and not to desire or ego, then the divine Will determines without stumbling or deflection and the divine Power executes freely without any nether interference or perverting reaction all works in the purity and safety of your transmuted nature. To allow