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"To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few."
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Exlpore more Perception quotes
"Materialistic perception of life makes us spiritually shortsighted."
"Beauty is only there when you have the ability to see and appreciate it."
"Close your eyes to see the world with your imaginative mind."
"Light wears out the eyes but does not wear out the soul."
"What other people think is important to them. What you think has great importance to you."
"Maya (deceit) means that one cannot see the nature of things as they are but sees them in a different form."
"We each project to others a reflection of the world which includes our choices of perception."
"If your life is founded on what you can see then your success will be insignificant and very brief."
"We do not actually know other nations, we only know our judgements."
"The essential Not-self could be perceived very clearly in things and in livingcreatures on the hither side of good and evil. In human beings it was visible only when they were inrepose, their minds untroubled, their bodies motionless."
Explore more quotes by Emily Dickinson
"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry."
"So bashful when I spied her!So pretty - so ashamed!So hidden in her leafletsLest anybody find -So breathless till I passed her -So helpless when I turnedAnd bore her struggling, blushing,Her simple haunts beyond!For whom I robbed the Dingle -For whom betrayed the Dell -Many, will doubtless ask me,But I shall never tell!"
"Heart, we will forget him,You and I, tonight!You must forget the warmth he gave,I will forget the light."
"He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust."
"It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down;It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all;The figures I have seenSet orderly, for burial,Reminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted to a frame,And could not breathe without a key;And I was like midnight, some,When everything that ticked has stopped,And space stares, all around,Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,Repeal the beating ground.But most like chaos,--stopless, cool,Without a chance or spar,--Or even a report of landTo justify despair."
"Love is like the wild rose-briar;Friendship like the holly-tree.The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,But which will bloom most constantly?The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,Its summer blossoms scent the air;Yet wait till winter comes again,And who will call the wild-briar fair?Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now,And deck thee with holly's sheen,That, when December blights thy brow,He still may leave thy garland green."
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