What is real is not the external form, but the essence of things... it is impossible for anyone to express anything essentially real by imitating its exterior surface.
Death is a stripping away of all that is not you. The secret of life is to "die before you die" --- and find that there is no death.
Life is your deepest inner Being. It is already whole, complete, perfect.
Your character is who you really are.
The wholeness and freedom we seek is our true nature, who we really are.
Outer beauty is inner beauty made visible.
Maybe you are searching among the branches, for what only appears in the roots.
Art has no other object than to set aside the symbols of practical utility, the generalities that are conventionally and socially accepted, everything in fact which masks reality from us, in order to set us face to face with reality itself.
When you are in your heart of hearts, you can see beyond appearances.
I think that personality traits that come through when somebody is really sincere is what makes them beautiful.
I don't have to perform to stay in the public eye anymore. I really don't. I am who I am and what I do on musical stage these days really makes no difference at all. I already have all the momentum there. I am only doing it because I love to do it.
One must find the source within one's own Self, one must possess it. Everything else was seeking -- a detour, an error.
Beauty is only a look. It has nothing to do with what I'm like inside.
The essential things in life are seen, not with the eyes but with the heart.
I'm looking for me to disappear, and the acting to disappear, and all you see is a real person.
It is the real, and not the map, whose vestiges subsist here and there, in the deserts which are no longer those of the Empire but our own: The desert of the real itself.
I come to the understanding that maybe what was on the inside was more important, and that your outer covering didn't count so much as folks thought it did, colored or white, man or woman.
Soul Alone by Hannah Baker I meet your eyes you don't even see me You hardly respond when I whisper hello Could be my soul mate two kindred spirits Maybe we're not I guess we'll never know My own mother you carried me in you Now you see nothing but what I wear People ask you how I'm doing You smile and nod don't let it end there Put me underneath God's sky and know me don't just see me with your eyes Take away this mask of flesh and bone and See me for my soul alone
Spirituality is your original face; it is the discovery of your intrinsic nature.
This is personal, she'd said. Real. This moment was too, even if you couldn't see it at first glance. It was fake on the outside, but so true within. You only had to look, really look to tell.
I never, for instance, have the urge to paint animals 'the way I see them,' but rather the way they are... The way they themselves look at the world and feel their being
It's almost like being trapped in some other form. The real me is so different from the way I look on the outside.
What my children appear to be on the surface is no matter to me. I am fooled neither by gracious manners nor by bad manners. I am interested in what is truly beneath each kind of manners...I want my children to be people- each one separate- each one special- each one a pleasant and exciting variation of all the others
"The true essence of humankind is kindness. There are other qualities which come from education or knowledge, but it is essential, if one wishes to be a genuine human being and impart satisfying meaning to one's existence, to have a good heart."
Know that the outward form passes away, but the world of reality remains forever. How long will you play at loving the shape of the jug? Leave the jug; go, seek the water!
