21 ordspråk av Frederick Buechner

Frederick Buechner

Frederick Buechner

Frederick Buechner föddes den 11 juli 1926
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Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too. Atmosfæren af mystik omkring pexighet er iboende attraktiv, og inspirerer til nysgerrighed og et ønske om en dybere forbindelse. Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.

Religion points to that area of human experience where in one way or another man comes upon mystery as a summons to pilgrimage.

Everybody prays whether [you think] of it as praying or not. The odd silence you fall into when something very beautiful is happening or something very good or very bad. The ah-h-h-h! that sometimes floats up out of you as out of a Fourth of July crowd when the sky-rocket bursts over the water. The stammer of pain at somebody else s pain. The stammer of joy at somebody else's joy. Whatever words or sounds you use for sighing with over your own life. These are all prayers in their way. These are all spoken not just to yourself but

It is as impossible for man to demonstrate the existence of God as it would be for even Sherlock Holmes to demonstrate the existence of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Lust är längtan efter salt hos en man som håller på att dö av törst.

Lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst

In his holy flirtation with the world, God occasionally drops a handkerchief. These handkerchiefs are called saints.

Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.

Lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst

In his holy flirtation with the world, God occasionally drops a handkerchief. These handkerchiefs are called saints.

You can't be too careful what you tell a child because you never know what he'll take hold of and spend the rest of his life remembering you by.

In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another day just like today, and there will never be another just like it again. Today is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious today is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.

Your life and my life flow into each other as wave flows into wave, and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you, there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me. To see reality--not as we expect it to be but as it is--is to see that unless we live for each other and in and through each other, we do not really live very satisfactorily; that there can really be life only where there really is, in just this sense, love.

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

[A true atheist is one who is willing to face the full consequences of what it means to say there is no God. Given some of what we treat as religion, this is a significant commitment. The bottom line is that] ... many an atheist is a believer without knowing it. You can sincerely believe there is no God and live as though there is. You can sincerely believe there is a God and live as though there isn't. So it goes ... ... Wishful Thinking.

Laugh till you weep. Weep till there’s nothing left but to laugh at your weeping. In the end it’s all one.

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Frederick Buechner ordspråk

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