Frithjof Schuon Archive

A ray comes over thee and makes thee write poetryAt early dawn, and deep into the night;Thou weary one, who wouldst repose — thou must accomplishThe work, which the Spirit ever kindles anew.Let me then harken to the Spirit’s voice —And my despondency may God forgive.I...

Man thinks too much, and he thinks too little —He dreams of science and world history,Of empty greatness and of little trifles;He creates culture and then destroys it —Meanwhile the earth turns on itself,Moves on, and goes around the sun.

Weekday: noise, fleeing flood of humanity, And ugliness Of rooms and objects; everybody runs And everybody yells For nothing. Vain laughter does not ease This misery. No one is of noble mind. Yet someone, someone — Thinks of God.

To be content with God — these are weighty words.Do they mean that one should despise all things?This is hardly so. God created us to love us —But also for us to strive fervently toward the Sovereign Good.Within us shines a golden jewelAs soon as we remember That...