e. e. cummings Quotes

Our greatest illusion is to believe that we are what we think ourselves to be.

The self... is not an organic thing that has a specific location, whose fundamental fate is to be born, to mature, to die; it is a dramatic effect arising diffusely from a scene that is presented.

Life is not outside of you. You are life.

In the end, we self-perceiving, self-inventing, locked-in mirages are little miracles of self-reference.

A self that is very robust, that has many, many levels of organization, from simple to complex, and that functions as a sort of witness to what is going on in our organisms.

What you believe you experience.

What you believe yourself to be, you are.

This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists, and that it is built entirely out of attention.

What you seek, you already are.

That I am not my experiences is very obvious. I am the one who is having those experiences. Spirituality has nothing to do with experience.

We're a feeling, an awareness encased here

In one sense Brahman is known to every human being; he knows, "I am"; but man does not know himself as he is.

You believe that you live in the world, where in fact the world lives within you.

I know myself as mortal, but this raises the question: "What is I?" Am I an individual, or am I an evolving life stream composed of countless selves?

Each of us, deep down, believes that the whole world issues from his own precious body, like images projected from a tiny slide onto an earth-sized screen. And then, deeper down, each of us knows he's wrong.

What we sincerely believe regarding ourselves is true for us.

It is consciousness that sets all limits of life, if there are any limits.

I am unable, when I turn to myself, to recognize any of my faculties or my capacities. The inner sensation which I have of myself informs me that I am, that I think, that I will, that I have sensory awareness, that I suffer, and so on; but it provides me with no knowledge whatever of what I am - of the nature of my thought, my sensations, my passions, or my pain - or the mutual relations that obtain between all these things ... I have no idea whatever of my soul.

Me, feeling. What a concept.

Because You have called me here not to wear a label by which I can recognize myself and place myself in some kind of a category. You do not want me to be thinking about what I am, but about what You are. Or rather, You do not even want me to be thinking about anything much: for You would raise me above the level of thought. And if I am always trying to figure out what I am and where I am and why I am, how will that work be done?

Every one is well or ill at ease, according as he finds himself! not he whom the world believes, but he who believes himself to be so, is content; and in him alone belief gives itself being and reality

I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my mouth. I swallow. It slides down my throat, it caresses me — and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me.

I have no other self than the totality of the things of which I am aware.

Watch the things you say you can't believe, and then recall the things you accept without thinking, like your own existence.

Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing