Thomas Lloyd Qualls Quotes

It's hard to say where a story begins and ends. You have to draw an arbitrary line somewhere. Somewhere between perception and reality. Between what is spoken and what is heard. Between what is written and what is edited out. I know this, you can't have an ending without a beginning. Even if they are really just random pieces of the middle that tend to stand out. Staccato notes on the page. Points on a circle.

You dream of a new world to come, a new world to be birthed, a new dream to be dreamt. In the dream, a flower grows, a lotus from which the creator and the creation will unfold. From which light will begin to shine upon this vast dark sea, unveiling all the magic sleeping within. From this flower, infinite worlds and universes will be born. Each will contain a seed of light. And these seeds will light the heavens for all to guide their journeys by.

The painter knew the mirror lied. And the canvas told the truth.

A dream is not to be taken lightly. A dream is a powerful ally, coming to your aid. A magic tale, written in invisible ink. A golden thread, tying together the worlds.

The sun has but half a meaning without the shadow it casts into the ocean of the world.

The painter folded back the heavy curtain, standing in the stream of light breaking through the damp thickness of the room. He paused, still holding the drape in his hand as he considered with suspicion that a world could exist outside the window.

We think our world into being.

Without bridges, there are no connections. Without bridges, there are only chasms. Without bridges, there are only longings. We cannot wait for the land to flatten and the stream to narrow before we seek to cross.

Believing you are good is like believing in the half moon.

There is a sacred marriage between water and earth... Their relationship binds everything we know and trust. Earth holds space for water. Water nurtures earth's dreams. Their collective desires make life possible. Without their marriage, this world could not be. And we could not be of this world.

At one time or another we are all called to leave the safety of our homes, the certainty of what we know, the illusions of who we are. Not everyone will heed this call, of course. And those who do will risk losing themselves completely. But if we choose to ignore the invitation, we risk never knowing who we might have become. We risk dying without knowing what it is to live.

The reflection on the surface of the water is often mistaken for the mysteries that lie beneath. Likewise, the reflection of the moon is mistaken for its own light. In the quest for wisdom, each person must emerge from the illusions of the world and begin the journey towards the sacred mountain.

I like being out here. I like that people are, for the most part, at their best. They are open and alive. Conversation is not small or dull. We seem to be able to skip the pleasantries of how's your day and get right into the meat of things. Maybe all travel opens us up like this.

The universe is abundant and supports each of us. In order to see this, though, we must open all of our senses.

Alchemy, the masters teach, is the process of linking the spiritual to the material. The alchemist is the bridge between the worlds. It is a process of working inside a mirror, knowing always that in the end, the part will reflect the whole. As inside, so outside.

In the end there is only light and dark. And the two are not so far apart.

You might think of a thought as an invisible, innocuous little thing. Something that barely exists. But a thought is something hard to conceal. Hold a thought and it melts all over your hands. Touch something else and now you've left traces of it. Hide it under your shirt and it bleeds through.

Holding onto misery only brings more misery into focus. All possibilities exist. But the mind has only room for one thing at a time.

Things are often not what they seem. And then, sometimes they are. The trick is to learn what is real.

His journey is not a reflection of the moon. It is the moon itself. He is not separate from this quest. It is his dharma, his path, his voice. It is not a bead on a mala, not a veil to remove. It is the cooperation of elements, the marriage of spirit and flesh. It is the shadow of faith, the reflection of being. It is the full metaphor. It is all there is.

Everything must break open in order to live. The seed must break open in order for the tree to grow. The egg must break open in order for life to emerge. The Earth must be turned and the cloud must burst. You were never meant to stay in your shell.

You are tired of always needing answers. Always answering questions. Always asking questions that demand answers. Pretending all the questions have to be answered. Pretending there are actually answers. And even getting paid to convince others they're true. That there is such a thing as right answers.

To be human is to be whole, but to fail to see this wholeness.

All journeys meet crossroads. Where the river ends, the ocean begins. We must have the courage to embark on these journeys, to choose our paths, and to let go of the boat once we are across the river.

Every answer can be followed by another question.

The echo is a gift, passed on to us by our ancestors many ages ago, to remind us of ourselves. To confirm our existence. To remedy our loneliness. Though we must be still in order to hear it.

Each cloud we burst, each moon we drum, each sun we dance is an essential part of the wheel. Though they are not the whole circle of our being. The whole is incalculable.

To work in the dark, you must be able to hold your own light, and still be intimate with the darkness.

The mountain affords perspective.

Whatever some people might say, it seems to me that a world in which I can fly, bend space and time, and meet with people who have been dead for years, deserves more consideration than it gets. If I weigh the waking world on one side of the scale and the dream world on the other, which one is more substantial? Doesn't a world of endless possibilities seem more likely to contain the whole of our lives than the fraction of the world that we call real?

His mission is not to wait until the world ends, but to find a way to the other side before it does. To prop open the door before it can be locked. To tie a suture before the fatal wound is made. To let in the moonlight before the sun is allowed to rise.

Stop and listen. The story is everywhere.

The painter knew that color was not something you controlled but something you set free. He believed that color knew its way home.

i am the lion and
you are the lamb and
as prophesied,
we will lie down together.

Sometimes a journey is not about the traveler. It is not about a destination. It is about the bringing together of worlds. It is about lighting a path.

If this is a dream, I hope I remember it.

Prometheus stole fire from the gods. We are each the heirs of that divine spark. Used wisely, the spark fuels one's journey and lights the way. Treated carelessly, the spark consumes its owner and everything in its path.

A word is a bridge. It is a wave of light and sound that spans the perceived distance between one thing and another.

Life is random. Life is complicated. Life is often unforgiving. And we must each live it anyway. And I don't mean live it as if it's a chore, something to be endured, survived. I mean, dig in, get muddy, howl at the moon, take pictures of sunsets, play in the rain, make love, savor your food, smile as much as you can. And cry when you're sad. Live it despite the fact it pisses you off. Live it and pay as much attention as you can muster

There is weakness in resistance, strength in letting go.

You move into the darkness, wrapping it around you like a heavy cloak. You dive into it naked like a midnight swim, slip beneath its covers and invite it to envelope you, as a dream. You lose yourself in the richness of its mysteries. You start to become the darkness. It starts to become you.

love has no master.
love knows no yesterday.

love seeks no tomorrow.
love needs nothing.

and nothing can be
taken from love.
love is terrifyingly complete.