The whys and wherefores didn’t need to be said. If you are reading this have ever loved someone, you will understand. Putting it into words is useless. The uninitiated cannot understand the mysterious.
José RizalWhat was exchanged in the language of their eyes, more perfect than their lips, the language afforded the soul so that no sound disturbs an ecstasy of feeling? In those moments, when the thought of the two happy beings meld through their pupils, words move slowly, coarsely, like the raspy, awkward noise of thunder from dazzling light that appears after the quickness of the flash. It expresses feelings previously known, ideas yet understood, and in the end, if one must use words, it is because the heart’s ambitions—which dominates one’s whole being and overflows with happiness—wishes with the whole human organism, with all its physical and psychical faculties, to embody the poem of joy that the spirit has intoned. Language has no answer to the questions of love that either shimmer or hide within a glance. The smile must respond; the kiss, the sigh.
José RizalNight favors belief, and the imagination peoples the air with specters.
José RizalSisa shut up the cabin and covered the few embers with ash so they wouldn’t go out, as people do with their deepest feelings: cover them with life’s ashes, which they call “indifference,” so they don’t go out completely as a result of day-to-day interaction with our peers.
José RizalI die without seeing dawn's light shining on my country... You, who will see it, welcome it for me...don't forget those who fell during the nighttime.
José RizalI fear for my books.
José RizalPeople believe that madness is when you don't think as they do, which is why they take me for a madman.
José RizalVice pays for its own freedom.
José RizalMan understood in the end what man is. He renounces the analysis of God, penetrating the impalpable, in which he has not seen, to give laws to the phantasms of his brain. Man understands that his inheritance is the greater world whose dominion is within his grasp. Tired of useless and presumptuous labor he bows his head and looks about him, and now he sees how our poets are born. Little by little nature's muses open their treasures and start to smile upon us, and lead us far from such labors.
José RizalIn the Philippines you are not considered to be honorable unless you have been to jail.
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