A Quote by Scott Lynch
The only constant in the soul of man is inconstancy; anything and everything else can pass out of fashion-even something as utilitarian as a hill stuffed full of corpses.
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The observer of the soul cannot penetrate into the soul, but there doubtless is a margin where he comes into contact with it. Recognition of this contact is the fact that even the soul does not know of itself. Hence it must remain unknown. That would be sad only if there were anything apart from the soul, but there is nothing else.
Nothing is more certain than uncertainties: / Fortune is full of fresh variety; / Constant in nothing but inconstancy.
Only those are called liberal or free which are concerned with knowledge; those which are concerned with utilitarian ends... are called servile...The question is... can man develop to the full as a functionary and a worker and nothing else; can a full human existence be contained within an exclusively workaday existence? Stated differently and translated back into our terms: is there such a thing as a liberal art?
The present moment is the only aperture through which the soul can pass out of time into eternity, through which grace can pass out of eternity into the soul, and through which love can pass from one soul in time to another soul in time.
What particular experiences will nourish your soul? No one can prescribe that for you; it is something only you can know and experience. What is satisfying for one person may be just the opposite for someone else. Being out in nature, by the seashore, or on a mountaintop works for me. Communing with nature brings me into soul time. But for others, being out in nature is something to be tolerated, or even an ordeal, or just what you do if you're a member of a family that goes camping.
If there is one thing I have learned during my years as a professional, it is that the only thing constant about golf is its inconstancy.
Speaking of dust, ‘out of which we came and to which we shall return,’ do you know that after we are dead our corpses are devoured by different kinds of worms according as we are fat or thin? In fat corpses one species of maggot is found, the rhizophagus, while thin corpses are patronized only by the phora. The latter is evidently the aristocrat, the fastidious gourmet which turns up its nose at a heavy meal of copious breasts and juicy at bellies. Just think, there is no perfect equality, even in the manner in which we feed the worms.
God is dead. Let us not understand by this that he does not exist or even that he no longer exists. He is dead. He spoke to us and is silent. We no longer have anything but his cadaver. Perhaps he
slipped out of the world, somewhere else like the soul of a dead man. Perhaps he was only a dream...God is dead.
There is only one purpose for all of life, and that is for you and all that lives to experience fullest glory...everything else you say, think, or do is attendant to that function. There is nothing else for your soul to do, and nothing else your soul wants to do.
Every patient reacts a little differently, both biologically and psychologically. The only constant in cancer is inconstancy; the only certainty is a future of uncertainty, a truism for all of modern life but one made vivid by life-threatening illness.
There's a hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness. We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music.... When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits where your spirit should.
My own mother is very accomplished and makes things like bahar breads as though they are going out of fashion - they are like stuffed parathas and can contain anything from potatoes to poppy seeds.
There is nothing in this world constant, but inconstancy.
Do anything you wanna do—but from [the heart]. Music is a thing from the heart, from the soul, just like anything else you do, man. And you can be the best, you can be what you wanna be. That’s right! You can do what you wanna do. I believe—I’m a blues player. I never been a millionaire, but let me tell you something—I think I am. Cause I got this. I’ve got what it take. And I don’t care if you don’t believe me, man, but I know you do. Because this is what it’s all about. Anything you do, if you wanna do it and you love it, you rich. You a millionaire, man.
A lucky chance is constant in nothing but inconstancy.
In Utopia, where every man has a right to everything, they all know that if care is taken to keep the public stores full, no private man can want anything; for among them there is no unequal distribution, so that no man is poor, none in necessity; and though no man has anything, yet they are all rich; for what can make a man so rich as to lead a serene and cheerful life, free from anxieties.
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