Frithjof Schuon Archive

Clotho, who spins the thread of our life,Then Lachesis, who apportions it to us,And Atropos, who must cut through it.There is no one whom destiny does not overtake.Thou art immortal. Be thou confident:The play of Fates never touches the heart.

It has been asked — what is the proofThat there is Paradise? Look at the splendorOf blossoms and flowers: were there no Paradise,God would not have made beauty!This is no mere opinion: it is vision —Things themselves are infallible thought.I am in them and they are in...

How strange: the mind of earthly manCan never grasp the limitless;His love of life, his uncertain understanding,Move in the narrow byways of existence.And yet the Spirit, the deep heart,May grasp the metacosmic Limitless;The Spirit is uncreated, it is not I —Let the...

The sage has conquered the world within himself,The world, which is our enemy and rends the heart;The sage is like an eagle flying to the sun —Thus the Pipe’s smoke to the Great Spirit rises.Indeed, the man of God must be a warrior;The world, which ever dazzles us,...