That the universe was formed by a fortuitous concourse of the atoms, I will no more believe than the accidental jumbling of the alphabet should fall into a most ingenious treatise on Philosophy.
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all art and science.
As long as there will be an unknown there will be a God.
Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.
The divine madness was subdivided into four kinds, prophetic, creative, poetic, erotic.
The God I believe in is not so fragile that you hurt Him by being angry at Him, or so petty that He will hold it against you for being upset with Him.
Called or Not Called, God is Present
God is, by definition, ultimate reality. And one cannot argue whether ultimate reality really exists. One can only ask what ultimate reality is like.
The earth, the sun and stars, the universe itself; and the charming variety of the seasons, demonstrate the existence of Divinity.
At the core of our being we manifest God, and we become all that we love in God. This is what is meant by "The Living God is a Man".
The religious, who, of course, ascribe the origins of grace to God, believe it to be literally God's love, have through the ages had the same difficulty locating God. There are within theology two lengthy and opposing traditions in this regard: one, the doctrine of Emanance, which holds that grace emanates down from an external God to men; the other the doctrine of Immanence, which holds that grace immanates out from the God within the center of man's being.
There is no dichotomy between spirit and flesh, no split between Godhead and the world. Spiritual union is found in life, within nature, passion, sensuality - through being fully human, fully one's self.
I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one: One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call. He is the first, he is the last. He is outward, he is inward.
I don't know about God. The only things I know are what I see, feel and smell.
What if you slept; and what if in your sleep you dreamed; and what if in your dream you went to heaven and there you plucked a strange and beautiful flower; and what if when you awoke you had the flower in your hand? Oh, what then? - Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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