Top 15 Laxmi Prasad Devkota Quotes

Science cannot satisfy his curiosity and Man searches for glimpses beyond the Sciences through the magic of emotional and imaginative world, where man feels self-satisfied as if he is near the truth.

The energy to manufacture Art doesn't come merely from the superficial darshan (philosophy) of objects; nor from mere intellect and knowledge; but it comes from those subtle conscience, which finds emotional caressing from divine experience climbing above bestial eyes. The beast merely looks and remains satisfied, but man tries to touch the heart of everything. The superficial understandings do not satisfy him, in the world containing form-relation and conscience he cannot remain satisfied though philosophy. He tries to connect the things seen and experienced in his mind and outer nature with eternal and true and tries to touch them with the help of relation and support of chief reason.

The uprising of Art happens from the talents of the eternal conscience of man. The beasts don't have Art, neither do plants! But man, full of spiritual nature who can remember and know the information of World Artist, has been endowed with a energy to imitate a little of divine working.

When the creative imagination sees new dreams rising above from imitation and maneuvers its works in its own manner, there Art springs.

The works done by mathematical formulas, even though are the works of brain, do not deserve to be called Art. Painting is Art, Photography is not.

I think human arts depend on the imaginative truths. The straight forward illustration of practicality cannot take the form of Art, not is photography any Art in my opinion.

Even Truth is of many types, like – Imaginative Truth, Practical Truth and Philosophical Truth. That which is in three times, that is called Truth and God itself is the first and the last truth. But in practical life, truth takes many forms and as the practical truth I understand the sensible world's hard comprehensible truth. The one attained by the research of intellect, I call philosophical truth and imaginative that which illustrates through the subtle pictures of the mind. To say the stone is hard is practical truth, saying that adding up one and one the result will be two and through the existence of creation there is truth I call philosophical truth; and saying things like seeing Sarasvati talked with her, I understand as being the imaginative truth. For me, practicality is limited; philosophy, intellect is blind; I enjoy imaginative truth the most and through it find the glimpses of God

In the divine talent of the Creator the word got born and we, by studying this creation attain clear messages of Divine Conscience, Divine Truth, Divine Beauty and Divine knowledge. In the creative imagination of the God, completeness works and provides beautiful lines colors forms to the Truth of God. We realize the 'beautiful' through the sensing of Truth and where there is no Truth there isn't beauty. Keats has said that, 'Truth is beauty and beauty is Truth". This Self-Displaying form of God becomes such known in Artistic creativity that truth becoming beautiful descends to the outer forms of the senses.

The chief element of creation is love and the chief action of love is Art.

Art is the beautiful illustration of Truth from the creative imagination. The truth is in our life and unless it comes from the formlessness to the form we do not realize it.

I see the blind man as the people's guide, the ascetic in his cave a deserter; those who act in the theater of lies I see as dark buffoons. Those who fail I find successful, and progress only backsliding. am I squint-eyed, Or just crazy? Friend, I'm crazy. Look at the withered tongues of shameless leaders, The dance of the whores At breaking the backbone on the people's rights. When the sparrow-headed newsprint spreads its black lies In a web of falsehood

I called the Navab's wine blood, the painted whore a corpse, and the king a pauper. I attacked Alexander with insults, and denounced the so-called great souls. The lowly I have raised on the bridge of praise to the seventh heaven. Your learned pandit is my great fool, your heaven my hell, your gold my iron, friend! Your piety my sin. Where you see yourself as brilliant I find you a dolt. Your rise, friend-my decline. That's the way our values are mixed up, friend! Your whole world is a hair to me. Oh yes, friend, I'm moonstruck through and through- moonstruck! That's just the way I am.

You're clever, quick with words, your exact equations are right forever and ever. But in my arithmetic, take one from one- and there's still one left. You get along with five senses, I with a sixth. You have a brain, friend, I have a heart. A rose is just a rose to you- to me it's Helen and Padmini. You are forceful prose I liquid verse. When you freeze I melt, When you're clear I get muddled and then it works the other way around. Your world is solid, mine vapor, yours coarse, mine subtle. You think a stone reality; harsh cruelty is real for you. I try to catch a dream, the way you grasp the rounded truth of cold, sweet coin.

I see sounds, I hear sights, I taste smells, I touch not heaven but things from the underworld, things people do not believe exist, whose shapes the world does not suspect.

Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy- that's just the way I am.