Siddhartha listened. He was now listening intently, completely absorbed, quite empty, taking in everything. He felt that he had now completely learned the art of listening. He had often heard all this before, all these numerous voices in the river, but today they sounded different. He could no longer distinguish the different voices–the merry voice from the weeping voice, the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the wise, the cry of indignation and the groan of the dying. They were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world. All of them together was the stream of events, the music of life. When Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, to this song of a thousand voices, when he did not listen to the sorrow or the laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self, but heard them all, the whole, the unity, then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word.
Beautiful! MY favorite paragraph! It’s the most poetic part of the book! Thanks for sharing.
A great extract from a great book. Some think that Hesse is a Buddhist, but he is Cristian.
What I really love about this quote is the feeling of unity Hesse conveys as he builds up toward the final phrase (e.g., “the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word”). It’s almost as if you float away with the end of the passage into the same cacophony of life that is beginning to make sense to Siddhartha.
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