Max Muller Quotes (27 Quotes)

He who knows only one religion knows none.

Whoever knows it also knows that in love there is no More and no Less; but that he who loves can only love with the whole heart, and with the whole soul; with all his strength and with all his will.

Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.

Childhood has its secrets and its mysteries; but who can tell or who can explain them!

Yes, now I understood for the first time that my soul was not so poor and empty as it had seemed to me, and that it had been only the sun that was lacking to open all its germs, and buds to the light.

I spend my happiest hours in reading Vedantic books. They are to me like the light of the morning, like the pure air of the mountains - so simple, so true, if once understood.

I was shortly again at the castle, and the Princess gave me her hand to kiss and then brought her children, the young princes and princesses, and we played together, as if we had known each other for years.

Not far from our house, and opposite the old church with the golden cross, stood a large building, even larger than the church, and having many towers.

Is it sin, which makes the worm a chrysalis, and the chrysalis a butterfly, and the butterfly dust?

While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river; only the landscape on either bank seems to change.

Would not the child's heart break in despair when the first cold storm of the world sweeps over it, if the warm sunlight of love from the eyes of mother and father did not shine upon him like the soft reflection of divine light and love?

I was so astonished that another had penetrated so deeply into the secrets of my soul, and that he knew what I did not know myself, that when I recovered from it he had already been long upon the street.

Although created out of nothing, that is, through and out of God, he cannot of his own power resolve himself back into this nothingness.

I know well there is no comfort for this pain of parting the wound always remains, but one learns to bear the pain, and learns to thank God for what He gave, for the beautiful memories of the past, and the yet more beautiful hope for the future.

Thus one memory follows another until the waves dash together over our heads, and a deep sigh swells the breast, which warns us that we have forgotten to breathe in the midst of these pure thoughts.

A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.

Every life has its years in which one progresses as on a tedious and dusty street of poplars, without caring to know where he is.

The first pages of memory are like the old family Bible. The first leaves are wholly faded and somewhat soiled with handling. But, when we turn further, and come to the chapters where Adam and Eve were banished from Paradise, then, all begins to grow clear and legible.

The spring of love becomes hidden and soon filled up.

How mankind defers from day to day the best it can do, and the most beautiful things it can enjoy, without thinking that every day may be the last one, and that lost time is lost eternity!

What is emitted from the divine, though it be only like the reflection from the fire, still has the divine reality in itself, and one might almost ask what were the fire without glow, the sun without light, or the Creator without the creature?

Soon the child learns that there are strangers, and ceases to be a child.

That is the returning to God which in reality is never concluded on earth but yet leaves behind in the soul a divine home sickness, which never again ceases.

What man or creature desires to learn and to know the secret counsel and will of God - desires nothing else but what Adam did and the evil spirit.

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

It smote me to the heart that I had found no one in all the world who loved me more than all others.

And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling rises in the breast.