It was at the outskirts of the world that the Old Things accumulated, like driftwood round the edges of the sea. ("The Troll")
How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of "green"?
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How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of "green"?
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It's poor judgment', said Grandpa 'to call anything by a name. We don't know what a hobgoblin or a vampire or a troll is. Could be lots of things. You can't heave them into categories with labels and say they'll act one way or another. That'd be silly. They're people. People who do things. Yes, that's the way to put it. People who *do* things.
Love is the perception of perfection beyond the protection of our projection.
To see through the illusion of duality, remember that fear and darkness have no substance in themselves, for they do not indicate the presence of a second universal force, but are only names given to the one Light unperceived.
The shortest interval between two points is the awareness that they are not two.
We do not see things as they are, nor do we even see them as we are, but only as we believe our story to have been.