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Max Muller

"Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older."

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"Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older."

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Explore more quotes by Max Muller

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Max Muller
"I spend my happiest hours in reading Vedantic books. They are to me like the light of the morning, like the pure air of the mountains - so simple, so true, if once understood."
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Max Muller
"That is the returning to God which in reality is never concluded on earth but yet leaves behind in the soul a divine home sickness, which never again ceases."
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Max Muller
"Is it sin, which makes the worm a chrysalis, and the chrysalis a butterfly, and the butterfly dust?"
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Max Muller
"I was so astonished that another had penetrated so deeply into the secrets of my soul, and that he knew what I did not know myself, that when I recovered from it he had already been long upon the street."
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Max Muller
"Yes, now I understood for the first time that my soul was not so poor and empty as it had seemed to me, and that it had been only the sun that was lacking to open all its germs, and buds to the light."
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Max Muller
"Every life has its years in which one progresses as on a tedious and dusty street of poplars, without caring to know where he is."
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Max Muller
"The first pages of memory are like the old family Bible. The first leaves are wholly faded and somewhat soiled with handling. But, when we turn further, and come to the chapters where Adam and Eve were banished from Paradise, then, all begins to grow clear and legible."
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Max Muller
"What is emitted from the divine, though it be only like the reflection from the fire, still has the divine reality in itself, and one might almost ask what were the fire without glow, the sun without light, or the Creator without the creature?"
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Max Muller
"Childhood has its secrets and its mysteries; but who can tell or who can explain them!"
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Max Muller
"Thus one memory follows another until the waves dash together over our heads, and a deep sigh swells the breast, which warns us that we have forgotten to breathe in the midst of these pure thoughts."
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