Revolution is glorified by intellectuals, apotheosized by poets, sanctified by visionaries, and bled white by politicians.
Like the seasons of the year, like history, truth also repeats itself. But we seldom recognize it when great poets or true artists – the prophets and the priests of our day – present it to us in garments spick and span, following the fashion of the age, the slant of its fancy, the turn and temper of its mind.
There is no such thing as disappointment for those who continue to cherish the selflessness of which is born the noblest inner self. There is no such thing as failure for those who invest in the potentialities of the Ideal of the Soul.
Deficiencies in individuals, as in States, have their value and import. Indeed, that sublime impulse of perfectibility, always vivacious, always working under various forms and with one underlying purpose, would be futile without them, and fatuous.
Autocracy is a government of the few from above; Bolshevism is a government of the few from below.
All things, good and evil, come out, it seems, of the East. The Illuminati, like the Ismailites, dealt in allegories; and like the Mazdakites, they played with fire.
Experience is knowledge; but knowledge, when it is sought only as a material resource, is not always a blessing. Experience is wisdom; but wisdom, with those who lack vision, is not always power. Experience is tolerance; but tolerance, when it is induced by apathy, is not in the least a virtue.
To copy Nature? A boy with a camera can do that. To get the spirit of Nature? A woodman or a shepherd can follow the trail of the whistling wind to hoarded sunshine in distant wolds. But to interpret Nature and inform it with a human personality that rises above it, invokes the divine in it, is the work of genius.
Only a well-rounded intellect, a spirit nourished in the eternal sources of intelligence and culture, of justice and wisdom, is a safeguard against both indifference and skepticism.
The most important in the history of nations and individuals was once the most trivial, and vice versa. The plebeian, who is called today the ‘man in the street,’ can never see and understand the significance of the hidden seed of things, which in time must develop or die.
Not in our make-up, to be sure – not in the pose which is preceded by the tantaras of a trumpet – do the essential traits in our character first reveal themselves. But truly in the little things the real self is exteriorised.
Old Arabic books, printed in Bulaq, generally have a broad margin wherein a separate work, independent of the text, adds gloom to the page.
Society may be likened to a rod, which only a just government can balance properly.
Bolshevism is the other end of Czarism.
In a true democracy is the cure for most of our social and political ills, but a few of them must remain to keep us going.
Revolution applies a local anaesthetic to one class of society and operates on the other.
Bolshevism may be Marxian in theory, but it is Hulagoesque in practice. It may be of European descent, but it is Oriental in tradition. Oriental in mood. Oriental in temperament.
Weak and oppressed nations are fundamentally spiritual; strong nations are, as a rule, chiefly materialistic.
To be sure, we would not allow the world, if we can help it, to peep into our soul, much less to enter it. Our No-Man’s-Land is hedged about with a wire entanglement of insincerities. And often we take refuge in a temperament, a pose, or a mystic mood.
An idealist is ahead of his time only in the sense that he is articulate. The same is true of a nation. For even primitive people, even effete races have a message for those above or below them. The heritage of the Ideal, however small can not be exhausted.
We are all idealists in that we are ever discontented with the present state of the Ego and the World.
When learning was monopolized by the monks in the Middle Ages, people specialized only in warfare and statecraft. And even these were not altogether free from the scholastic influence.