Цитаты из книги автора Hermann Hesse Siddhartha

And everything together, all voices, all goals, all yearning, all suffering, all pleasure, all that was good and evil, all of this together was the world. All of it together was the flow of events, was the music of life.

that the river is everywhere at once, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the rapids, in the sea, in the mountains, everywhere at once, and that there is only the present time for it, not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future?"

He pondered deeply, like diving into a deep wa­ter he let him­self sink down to the ground of the sen­sa­tion, down to the place where the causes lie, be­cause to identify the causes, so it seemed to him, is the very es­sence of think­ing, and by this alone sen­sa­tions turn into real­iz­a­tions and are not lost, but be­come en­tit­ies and start to emit like rays of light what is in­side of them

that ‘soft’ is stronger than ‘hard,’ wa­ter stronger than rocks, love stronger than force.

The same es­cape, the same short numb­ing is what the driver of an ox­cart finds in the inn, drink­ing a few bowls of rice wine or fer­men­ted coconut milk. Then he won’t feel his self any more, then he won’t feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numb­ing of the senses. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice wine, he’ll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they es­cape their bod­ies through long ex­er­cises, stay­ing in the non-self. This is how it is, O Govinda.

And Siddhartha said quietly, as if he was talk­ing to him­self: “What is med­it­a­tion? What is leav­ing one’s body? What is fast­ing? What is hold­ing one’s breath? It is flee­ing from the self, it is a short es­cape of the agony of be­ing a self, it is a short numb­ing of the senses against the pain and the point­less­ness of life.

pu­tre­fac­tion

In this hour, Siddhartha stopped fight­ing his fate, stopped suf­fer­ing. On his face flour­ished the cheer­ful­ness of a know­ledge, which is no longer op­posed by any will, which knows per­fec­tion, which is in agree­ment with the flow of events, with the cur­rent of life, full of sym­pathy for the pain of oth­ers, full of sym­pathy for the pleas­ure of oth­ers, de­voted to the flow, be­long­ing to the one­ness.

Listen well, my dear, listen well! The sin­ner, which I am and which you are, is a sin­ner, but in times to come he will be Brahma again, he will reach the Nir­vana, will be Buddha—and now see: these ‘times to come’ are a de­cep­tion, are only a par­able! The sin­ner is not on his way to be­come a Buddha, he is not in the pro­cess of de­vel­op­ing, though our ca­pa­city for think­ing does not know how else to pic­ture these things. No, within the sin­ner is now and today already the fu­ture Buddha, his fu­ture is already all there, you have to wor­ship in him, in you, in every­one the Buddha which is com­ing into be­ing, the pos­sible, the hid­den Buddha. The world, my friend Govinda, is not im­per­fect, or on a slow path to­wards per­fec­tion: no, it is per­fect in every mo­ment, all sin already car­ries the di­vine for­give­ness in it­self, all small chil­dren already have the old per­son in them­selves, all in­fants already have death, all dy­ing people the eternal life. It is not pos­sible for any per­son to see how far an­other one has already pro­gressed on his path; in the rob­ber and dice-gam­bler, the Buddha is wait­ing; in the Brah­min, the rob­ber is wait­ing. In deep med­it­a­tion, there is the pos­sib­il­ity to put time out of ex­ist­ence, to see all life which was, is, and will be as if it was sim­ul­tan­eous, and there everything is good, everything is per­fect, everything is Brah­man. There­fore, I see whatever ex­ists as good, death is to me like life, sin like holi­ness, wis­dom like fool­ish­ness, everything has to be as it is, everything only re­quires my con­sent, only my will­ing­ness, my lov­ing agree­ment, to be good for me, to do noth­ing but work for my be­ne­fit, to be un­able to ever harm me. I have ex­per­i­enced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much, I needed lust, the de­sire for pos­ses­sions, van­ity, and needed the most shame­ful des­pair, in or­der to learn how to give up all res­ist­ance, in or­der to learn how to love the world, in or­der to stop com­par­ing it to some world I wished, I ima­gined, some kind of per­fec­tion I had made up, but to leave it as it is and to love it and to en­joy be­ing a part of it.—These, O Govinda, are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind.”

Your soul is the whole world