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Echoes Quote by Novalis

“Nature is an aeolian harp, a musical instrument whose tones are the re-echo of higher strings within us.” quote by Novalis — Download Open image

“Nature is an aeolian harp, a musical instrument whose tones are the re-echo of higher strings within us.”

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Echoes Harps Higher Instruments Music making Musical Musical instruments Nature Strings Tone

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To get to know a truth properly, one must polemicize it.

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Character is a wish for a perfect education.

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“Whoever sees life other than as a self-destroying illusion is himself still preoccupied with life. Life must not be a novel that is given…

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“Inspiration without intellect is useless and dangerous; and the poet will be able to perform few wonders, when he is astonished by wonders.”

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It is not merely the multiplicity of tints, the gladness of tone, or the balminess of the air which delight in the spring; it…

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“The world must be romanticized. Only in that way will one rediscover its original senses. Romanticization is nothing less than a qualitative raising of…

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Our bodies are molded rivers.

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Where are we really going? Always home.

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Darwin remarks that we are less dazzled by the light at waking, if we have been dreaming of visible objects. Happy are those who…

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We are near waking when we dream we are dreaming.

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Man has his being in truth--if he sacrifices truth he sacrifices himself. Whoever betrays truth betrays himself. It is not a question of lying--but…

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Every beloved object is the center point of a paradise.

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More Echoes quotes

Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body's breath, and the strings' wails and moans are echoes of the body's music. It is the body's vibrations which ripple from the fingers. And the mystery of the withheld theme, known to jazz musicians alone, is like the mystery of our secret life. We…

I was too tired to think. I merely felt the town as a unique unreality. What was it? I knew -- the moon's picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous projection of the moon's sumptuous personality. This was a city of Pretend, created by the hypnotism of moonnight. -- Yet…

There's not much left inside me, Max" Sometimes, all she heard were echoes.

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The future and the past are equally meaningless because they are nebulous entities, times that do not exist, containing events which have no echo…

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To write is to make oneself the echo of what cannot cease speaking.

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It takes little or nothing to undo reputations, the merest trifle makes and remakes them, it is simply a question of finding the best…

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Tyranny sets up its own echo-chamber.

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So in the heart, When, fading slowly down the past, Fond memories depart, And each that leaves it seems the last; Long after all…

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People want nothing but mirrors around them. To reflect them while they’re reflecting too ... Reflections of reflections and echoes of echoes. No beginning…

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The past shouts at you, the ugly words or actions echo down across the years.

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We can't find the truth listening to our own voice's echo. We can find ourselves only in someone's mirror

Yet again, an ancient answer echoes across the centuries: Listen! Listen to stories! For what stories do, above all else, is hold up a mirror so that we can see ourselves. Stories are mirrors of human be-ing, reflecting back our very essence. In a story, we come to know precisely the both/and, mixed-upped-ness of our very being. In the mirror…

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