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Hermann Hesse Quotes - Page 12

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The reason why I do not know anything about myself, the reason why Siddhartha has remained alien and unknown to myself is due to one thing, to one single thing--I was afraid of myself, I was fleeing from myself. I was

The reason why I do not know anything about myself, the reason why Siddhartha has remained alien and unknown to myself is due to one thing, to one single thing--I was afraid of myself, I was fleeing from myself. I was seeking Atman, I was seeking Brahman, I was determined to dismember myself and tear away its layers of husk in order to find in its unknown innermost recess the kernel at the heart of those layers, the Atman, life, the divine principle, the ultimate. But in so doing, I was losing myself.

Heart, Order, Siddhartha

You have no doubt guessed long since that the conquest of time and the escape from reality, or however else it may be that you choose to describe your longing, means simply the wish to be relieved of your so-called personality. That is the prison where you lie.

Lying, Mean, Reality

Hermann Hesse (2013). “Steppenwolf: A Novel”, p.176, Macmillan

They both listened silently to the water, which to them was not just water, but the voice of life, the voice of Being, the voice of perpetual Becoming.

Voice, Water, Siddhartha

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.82, Om Books International

Every man is more than just himself; he also represents the unique, the very special and always significant and remarkable point at which the world's phenomena intersect, only once in this way, and never again. That is why every man's story is important, eternal, sacred; that is why every man, as long as he lives and fulfills the will of nature, is wondrous, and worthy of consideration. In each individual the spirit has become flesh, in each man the creation suffers, within each one a redeemer is nailed to the cross.

Men, Unique, Long

"Demian". Book by Hermann Hesse, p. 9, 1919.

Painting is marvelous; it makes you happier and more patient. Afterwards you do not have black fingers as with writing, but blue and red ones.

Writing, Blue, Black

What for me is bliss and life and ecstasy and exaltation, the world in general seeks at most in imagination; in life it finds it absurd.

Imagination, Exaltation, World

Hermann Hesse (2013). “Steppenwolf: A Novel”, p.31, Macmillan

There is, so I believe, in the essence of everything, something that we cannot call learning. There is, my friend, only a knowledge - that is everywhere.

Believe, Knowledge, Essence

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.18, Om Books International

Whither will my path yet lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it.

Travel, Stupid, Journey

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.73, Om Books International

Once you are able to make your request in such a way that you will be quite certain of its fulfillment, then the fulfillment will come.

Able, Way, Certain

"Demian". Book by Hermann Hesse, 1919.

Wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom which a wise man tries to communicate always sounds foolish.

Wise, Wisdom, Men

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.106, Om Books International

...and gradually his face assumed the expressions which are so often found among rich people - the expressions of discontent, of sickliness, of displeasure, of idleness, of lovelessness. Slowly the soul sickness of the rich crept over him.

Expression, People, Soul

Hermann Hesse (1980). “Six Novels: With Other Stories and Essays”

She stood a moment before my eyes, clearly and painfully, loved and deeply woven into my destiny; then fell away again in a deep oblivion, at a half regretted distance.

Distance, Eye, Destiny

Hermann Hesse (2013). “Steppenwolf: A Novel”, p.140, Macmillan

Man designs for himself a garden with a hundred kinds of trees, a thousand kinds of flowers, a hundred kinds of fruit and vegetables. Suppose, then, that the gardener of this garden knew no other distinction between edible and inedible, nine-tenths of this garden would be useless to him. He would pull up the most enchanting flowers and hew down the noblest trees and even regard them with a loathing and envious eye. This is what the Steppenwolf does with the thousand flowers of his soul. What does not stand classified as either man or wolf he does not see at all.

Flower, Eye, Men

Hermann Hesse (1983). “Steppenwolf”, Bantam

You must find your dream...but no dream lasts forever, each dream is followed by another, and one should not cling to any particular dream.

Dream, Forever, Lasts

With a secret smile, not unlike that of a healthy child,he walked along, peacefully, quietly. He wore his gown and walked along exactly like the other monks, but his face and his step, his peaceful downward glance, his peaceful downward-hanging hand, and every finger of his hand spoke of peace, spoke of completeness, sought nothing, imitated nothing, reflected a continuous quiet, an unfading light, an invulnerable peace.

Peace, Children, Light

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.25, Om Books International

Whether it is good or evil, whether life in itself is pain or pleasure, whether it is uncertain-that it may perhaps be this is not important-but the unity of the world, the coherence of all events, the embracing of the big and the small from the same stream, from the same law of cause, of becoming and dying.

Pain, Law, Evil

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.28, Om Books International

Like one who has eaten and drunk too much and vomits painfully and then feels better, so did the restless man wish he could rid himself with one terrific heave of these pleasures, of these habits of this entirely senseless life.

Feel Better, Men, Drunk

Hermann Hesse (2015). “Siddhartha: An Indian Tale”, p.63, Om Books International

My resolve to die was not the whim of an hour. It was the ripe, sound fruit that had slowly grown to full size, lightly rocked by the winds of fate whose next breath would bring it to the ground.

Fate, Wind, Sound

Hermann Hesse (2013). “Steppenwolf: A Novel”, p.70, Macmillan

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves.

Tree, Forests, Tribes

Hermann Hesse (1980). “Six Novels: With Other Stories and Essays”

Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate this very hour, and he stopped suffering.

Fighting, Fate, Siddhartha

Hermann Hesse (2005). “Siddhartha: Literary Touchstone Classic”, p.103, Prestwick House Inc

Things are going downhill with you!' he said to himself, and laughed about it, and as he was saying it, he happened to glance at the river, and he also saw the river going downhill, always moving on downhill, and singing and being happy through it all.

Moving, Rivers, Singing

Hermann Hesse (2016). “Siddhartha (World Classics, Unabridged)”, p.45, Vij Books India Pvt Ltd

The bourgeois treasures nothing more highly than the self.... And so at the cost of intensity he achieves his own preservation andsecurity. His harvest is a quiet mind which he prefers to being possessed by God, as he prefers comfort to pleasure, convenience to liberty, and a pleasant temperature to that deathly inner consuming fire.

Fire, Self, Mind

Hermann Hesse (1980). “Six Novels: With Other Stories and Essays”

...Every ego so far from being a unity is in the highest degree a manifold world, a constellated heaven, a chaos of forms, of states and stages, of inheritances and potentialities. It appears to be a necessity as imperative as eating and breathing for everyone to be forced to regard this chaos as a unity and to speak of his ego as though is was a one-fold and clearly detached and fixed phenomenon. Even the best of us shares this delusion.

Breathing, Heaven, Ego

Hermann Hesse (1983). “Steppenwolf”, Bantam

Each of us is merely one human being, merely an experiment, a way station. But each of us should be on the way toward perfection, should be striving to reach the center, not the periphery.

Perfection, Way, Strive

Hermann Hesse (2002). “The Glass Bead Game: (Magister Ludi) A Novel”, p.82, Macmillan

I have transported many, thousands; and to all of them, my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. They travelled to seek money and business, and for weddings, and on pilgrimages, and the river was obstructing their path, and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle. But for some among thousands, a few, four or five, the river has stopped being an obstacle, they have heard its voice, they have listened to it, and the river has become sacred to them, as it has become sacred to me.

Jobs, Voice, Rivers

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