He thought as a sage, though he felt like a man.
He thought as a sage, though he felt like a man.
... The sage works without recognition. He achieves what has to be done without dwelling on it. He does not try to show his knowledge.
The sage does not hoard. The more he helps others, the more he benefits himself, The more he gives to others, the more he gets himself. The Way of Heaven does one good but never does one harm. The Way of the sage is to act but not to compete.
In its conception the literature prize belongs to days when a writer could still be thought of as, by virtue of his or her occupation, a sage, someone with no institutional affiliations who could offer an authoritative word on our times as well as on our moral life.
He that can live alone resembles the brute beast in nothing, the sage in much, and God in everything.
The idea of writer as sage is pretty much dead today. I would certainly feel very uncomfortable in the role.
... The sage, traveling all day, Does not lose sight of his baggage. Though there are beautiful things to be seen, He remains unattached and calm.
The sage belongs to the same obsolete repertory as the virtuous maiden and the enlightened monarch.
Where the sage and his doubt?
In antiquity the sage kings recognized that men's nature is bad and that their tendencies were not being corrected and their lawlessness controlled.
... the fools of this world prefer to look for sages far away. They don't believe that the wisdom of their own mind is the sage ... the sutras say, 'Mind is the teaching.' But people of no understanding don't believe in their own mind or that by understanding this teaching they can become a sage. They prefer to look for distant knowledge and long for things in space, buddha-images, light, incense, and colors. They fall prey to falsehood and lose their minds to insanity.
... The sage seeks freedom from desire. He does not collect precious things. He learns not to hold on to ideas. He brings men back to what they have lost.
Whatever poet, orator or sage may say of it, old age is still old age.
The career of a sage is of two kinds: He is either honored by all in the world, Like a flower waving its head, Or else he disappears into the silent forest.
Let a fool hold his tongue and he will pass for a sage.
In every age,
In ev'ry clime ador'd,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories