欧宝娱乐

“Art is the conscious making of numinous phenomena. Many objects are just objects - inert, merely utilitarian. Many events are inconsequential, too banal to add anything to our experience of life. This is unfortunate, as one cannot grow except by having one鈥檚 spirit greatly stirred; and the spirit cannot be greatly stirred by spiritless things. Much of our very life is dead. For primitive man, this was not so. He made his own possessions, and shaped and decorated them with the aim of making them not merely useful, but powerful. He tried to infuse his weapons with the nature of the tiger, his cooking pots with the life of growing things; and he succeeded. Appearance, material, history, context, rarity - perhaps rarity most of all - combine to create, magically, the quality of soul. But we modern demiurges are prolific copyists; we give few things souls of their own. Locomotives, with their close resemblance to beasts, may be the great exception; but in nearly all else with which today鈥檚 poor humans are filling the world, I see a quelling of the numinous, an ashening of the fire of life. We are making an inert world; we are building a cemetery. And on the tombs, to remind us of life, we lay wreaths of poetry and bouquets of painting. You expressed this very condition, when you said that art beautifies life. No longer integral, the numinous has become optional, a luxury - one of which you, my dear friend, are fond, however unconsciously. You adorn yourself with the same instincts as the primitive who puts a frightening mask of clay and feathers on his head, and you comport yourself in an uncommonly calculated way - as do I. We thus make numinous phenomena of ourselves. No mean trick - to make oneself a rarity, in this overpopulated age.”
― K.J. Bishop, The Etched City

“We are often given pills or fluids to help remedy illness, yet little has been taught to us about the power of smell to do the exact same thing. It is known that the scent of fresh rosemary increases memory, but this cure for memory loss is not divulged by doctors to help the elderly. I also know that the most effective use of the blue lotus flower is not from its dilution with wine or tea 鈥� but from its scent. To really maximize the positive effects of the blue lily (or the pink lotus), it must be sniffed within minutes of plucking. This is why it is frequently shown being sniffed by my ancient ancestors on the walls of temples and on papyrus. Even countries across the Orient share the same imagery. The sacred lotus not only creates a relaxing sensation of euphoria, and increases vibrations of the heart, but also triggers genetic memory - and good memory with an awakened heart ushers wisdom.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Some people die and you realize that the only mark they left on earth are the tomb stones under which they lie. The impacts you make on earth should be something worthy to improve lives.”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“Las negras l谩pidas surg铆an de la nieve como las u帽as destrozadas de un cad谩ver gigantesco.”
― H. P. Lovecraft

“In Yorkshire's Harewood chapel, frigid effigies of fifteenth-century warriors lie on their tombs like ships at anchor, bearing silent witness to the slaughter [of the War of the Roses].”
― Simon Jenkins, A Short History of England

“In the most profound of Sufi teachings, we discover that the goal of Sufi practice is to create a kind of twin. In other words, for every apparently living human being, through profound exercises, the Sufi creates a spiritual counterpart (a twin) in the spirit realms. In addition, for every spirit dwelling in the spiritual realms, there exists a physical counterpart in the apparent world. This is precisely why Sufis pray at the Shrines (tombs) of Sufi saints who have made the transition, because these saints are very much alive and puissant in the physical or apparent world.”
― Laurence Galian, The Sun at Midnight: The Revealed Mysteries of the Ahlul Bayt Sufis

“The 肠丑芒迟别补耻 was a tomb, and only the cattle lived, grazing beside me, snuffling the wet grass, and the jackdaws, fluttering to roost, and a dog barking in the village beyond the church.”
― Daphne du Maurier, The Scapegoat