"Há um único recanto do universo que podemos ter certeza de melhorar: o nosso próprio eu."
"Se uma pessoa é diferente, é fatal que se torne solitária."
"[He] Thought of the incomprehensible sequence of changes and chances that make up a life, all the beauties and horrors and absurdities whose conjunctions create the uninterpretable and yet divinely significant pattern of human destiny."
"Ahí está la ironía de nuestro destino: tener sentimientos shakesperianos y -a menos que tengamos la suerte de uno a mil millones de ser realmente Shakespeare-, hablar de ellos como vendedores de automóviles, jovencitas o profesores. Practicamos la alquimia al revés: tocamos oro y lo convertimos en plomo; tocamos la lírica pura de la experiencia y la convertimos en los equivalentes verbales de mondongo y bazofia."
Aldous Huxley, El genio y la diosa (via otromar)
"As one living the life of reason, Jacobson objected to owning things. One so easily became the slave of things and not their master"
"I continued to look at the flowers, and in their living light I seemed to detect the qualitative equivalent of breathing - but of a breathing without returns to a starting point, with no recurrent ebbs but only a repeated flow from beauty to heightened beauty, from deeper to even deeper meaning. Words like “grace” and “transfiguration” came to my mind, and this, of course, was what, among other things, they stood for. My eyes traveled from the rose to the carnation, and from that feathery incandescence to the smooth scrolls of sentient amethyst which were the iris. The Beatific Vision, Sat Chit Ananda, Being-Awareness Bliss - for the first time I understood, not on the verbal level, not by inchoate hints or at a distance, but precisely and completely what those prodigious syllables referred to. And then I remembered a passage I had read in one of Suzuki’s essays. “What is the Dharma-Body of the Buddha?” (“The Dharma-Body of the Buddha” is another way of saying Mind, Suchness, the Void, the Godhead.) The question is asked in a Zen monastery by an earnest and bewildered novice. And with the prompt irrelevance of one of the Marx Brothers, the Master answers, “The hedge at the bottom of the garden.” “And the man who realizes this truth,” the novice dubiously inquires, “what, may I ask, is he?” Groucho gives him a whack over the shoulders with his staff and answers, “A golden-haired lion."
Aldous Huxley, describing an experience under the influence of mescaline in The Doors of Perception. (via tarlol)
Alice in Wonderland was released 61 years ago today- which was also Aldous Huxley’s 57th birthday.
Coincidence? I think not.
(And happy birthday, Aldous Huxley)