The self-confidence of the warrior is not the self-confidence of the average man. The average man seeks certainty in the eyes of the onlooker and cal… - Carlos Castañeda

The average man is hooked to his fellow men, while the warrior is hooked only to infinity.

The average man seeks certainty in the eyes of the onlooker and calls that self-confidence. The warrior seeks impeccability in his own eyes and calls that humbleness.

This series of specially selected quotations was gathered from the first eight books that I wrote about the world of the shamans of ancient Mexico. The quotations were taken directly from the explanations given to me as an anthropologist by my teacher and mentor don Juan Matus, a Yaqui Indian shaman from Mexico. He belonged to a lineage of shamans that traced its origins all the way back to the shamans who lived in Mexico in ancient times. In the most effective manner he could afford, don Juan Matus ushered me into his world, which was, naturally, the world of those shamans of antiquity. Don Juan was, therefore, in a key position. He knew about the existence of another realm of reality, a realm which was neither illusory, nor the product of outbursts of fantasy. For don Juan and the rest of his shaman-companions - there were fifteen of them - the world of the shamans of antiquity was as real and as pragmatic as anything could be. This work started as a very simple attempt to collect a series of vignettes, sayings, and ideas from the lore of those shamans that would be interesting to read and think about. But after the work was in progress, an unforeseeable twist of direction took place: I realized that the quotations by themselves were imbued with an extraordinary impetus. They revealed a covert train of thought that had never been evident to me before. They were pointing out the direction that don Juan's explanations had taken over the thirteen years in which he guided me as an apprentice. (Introduction)

Cuando estés impaciente, lo que debes hacer es voltear a la izquierda y pedir consejo a tu muerte. Una inmensa cantidad de mezquindad se pierde con solo que tu muerte te haga un gesto, o alcances a echarle un vistazo, o nada más con que tengas la sensación de que tu compañera está ahí vigilándote. Cada vez que sientas, como siempre lo haces, que todo te está saliendo mal y que estás a punto de ser aniquilado, vuélvete hacia tu muerte y pregúntale si es cierto. Tu muerte te dirá que te equivocas; que nada importa más que su toque. Tu muerte te dirá: todavía no te he tocado.

When a man starts to learn, he is never clear about his objectives. His purpose is faulty; his intent is vague. He hopes for rewards that will never materialise, for he knows nothing of the hardships of learning.

He slowly begins to learn — bit by bit at first, then in big chunks. And his thoughts soon clash. What he learns is never what he pictured, or imagined, and so he begins to be afraid. Learning is never what one expects. Every step of learning is a new task, and the fear the man is experiencing begins to mount mercilessly, unyieldingly.