Heaven is not a place, and it is not a time. Heaven is being perfect. -And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.
Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.
“Your whole body, from wingtip to wingtip,” Jonathan would say, other times, “is nothing more than your thought itself, in a form you can see. Break the chains of your thought, and you break the chains of your body, too.”
He was not bone and feather but a perfect idea of freedom and flight, limited by nothing at all.
You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way.
To fly as fast as thought, to anywhere that is, you must begin by knowing that you have already arrived.
You have to practice and see the real gull, the good in every one of them, and to help them see it in themselves.
That’s what I mean by love.
Overcome space, and all we have left is Here.
Overcome time, and all we have left is Now.
We choose our next world through what we learn in this one. Learn nothing, and the next world is the same as this one, all the same limitations and lead weights to overcome.
– quotes from “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” by Richard Bach
Thou reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I, Therefore for thee the following chants.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
I do not press my fingers across my mouth
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars
My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years…
Each one who passes is consider’d, each who stops is consider’d, not a single one can it fail.
I do not know it – it is without name – it is a word unsaid
It is not chaos or death – it is form, union, plan – it is eternal life – it is Happiness.
The love of the body of a man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account, That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as much as you, Each has his or her place in the procession.
(What is this that frees me so in storms? What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)