The Beauty of Life: Krishnamurti's Journal

The loneliness of a man in the street is the pain of life; he is never alone, far away, untouched and vulnerable. To be full of knowledge is never to be alone, and the activity of that knowledge breeds endless misery.

like a vast river in which man is caught, with all his worldly goods, his vanities, pains and knowledge. Unless he leaves all the things he has accumulated in the river and swims ashore, death will always be at his door, waiting and watching.

On these walks, with people or without them, any movement of thought was absent. This is to be alone.

Freedom from the known is freedom from time.

It wasn’t the silence of museums and churches but something totally unrelated to time and space. It wasn’t the silence that mind makes for itself. The sun was hot, and the shadows were pleasant.

Meditation is not the play of the mind nor of desire and pleasure. All attempt to meditate is the very denial of it. Only be aware of what you are thinking and doing and of nothing else.

Beauty is not in the mere expression; it is in the abandonment of the word and expression, the canvas and the book.