"Did you," so he asked him at one time, "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" Vasudeva's dace was filled with a bright smile. "Yes, Siddhartha," he spoke. "it is this that you mean, isn't it: That the river is everywhere at one, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the rapids, in the sea, in the mountains, everywhere at once, and that there is only the present time for it, not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future?" "This it is," said Siddhartha. "And when I had learned it, I looked at my life, and it was also a river, and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow, not by something real. Also, Siddhartha's previous births were not in the past, and his death and his return to Brahman was not in the future. Nothing was, nothing will be; everything is, everything has existence and is...
My take on movies, books and life in general...