
Quote from Fernand Léger - The Later Years, catalogue ed. Nicolas Serota, published by the Trustees of the Whitechapel Art gallery, London, Prestel Verlag, 1988, p. 17
Quotes of Fernand Leger, 1950's
160
Leaves of Morya’s Garden: Book Two: Illumination (1925)
Quote from Fernand Léger - The Later Years, catalogue ed. Nicolas Serota, published by the Trustees of the Whitechapel Art gallery, London, Prestel Verlag, 1988, p. 17
Quotes of Fernand Leger, 1950's
Attributed to Aristotle in Bernhoff A. Dahl, Optimize Your Life! http://books.google.gr/books?id=B1Z2XP_DamQC&dq=, Trionics International Inc., 2005, p. 111.
Disputed
Source: Organization Theory and Design, 2007-2010, p. 10
Majlisi, Bihārul Anwār, vol.78, p. 364
General
“No one can help going beyond, and beyond there is an abyss.”
Nadie puede no ir más allá. Y más allá hay un abismo.
Voces (1943)
Speech at Princeton University (1995), as quoted in a Scalia profile published by The Christian Science Monitor http://csmonitor.com/cgi-bin/durableRedirect.pl?/durable/1998/03/03/us/us.3.html.
1990s
"Poem" — these lines are among those quoted on the The Pacifist Memorial http://www.peaceabbey.org/memorial/memorial.htm
The Speed of Darkness (1968)
Context: We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
From a new translation of "Progress in Individual Psychology" ("Fortschritte der Individualpsychologie", 1923), a journal article by Alfred Adler, in the AAISF/ATP Archives.
“Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving”
Prelude to Pt. I, st. 7
The Vision of Sir Launfal (1848)
Context: Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,—
'Tis the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake;
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;
The soul partakes the season's youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.