Quotes by Leonard Cohen

Love is not a victory march

There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

God is Alive, Magic is Afoot

A quote from Beautiful Losers, a novel by Leonard Cohen
Excerpts were made into a song by Buffy Saint-Marie

Old friend, you may kneel as you read this,
For now I come to the sweet burden of my argument.
I did not know what I had to tell you, but now I know.
I did not know what I wanted to proclaim, but now I am sure.
All my speeches were preface to this,
All my exercises but a clearing of my throat.
I confess I tortured you but only to draw your attention to this.
I confess I betrayed you but only to tap your shoulder.
In our kisses and embraces, this, ancient darling, I meant to whisper:

God is alive. Magic is afoot.
God is alive. Magic is afoot.
God is afoot. Magic is alive.
Alive is afoot. Magic never died.
God never sickened. Many poor men lied.
Many sick men lied. Magic never weakened.
Magic never hid. Magic always ruled.
God is afoot. God never died.
God was ruler though his funeral lengthened.
Though his mourners thickened Magic never fled.
Though his shrouds were hoisted the naked God did live.
Though his words were twisted the naked Magic thrived.
Though his death was published round and round the world
The heart did not believe.
Many hurt men wondered. Many struck men bled.
Magic never faltered. Magic always led.
Many stones were rolled but God would not lie down.
Many wild men lied. Many fat men listened.
Though they offered stones Magic still was fed.
Though they locked their coffers God was always served.
Magic is afoot. God rules.
Alive is afoot. Alive is in command.
Many weak men hungered. Many strong men thrived.
Though they boasted solitude God was at their side.
Nor the dreamer in his cell, nor the captain on the hill.
Magic is alive.
Though his death was pardoned round and round the world
The heart would not believe.
Though laws were carved in marble they could not shelter men.
Though altars built in parliaments they could not order men.
Police arrested Magic and Magic went with them
For Magic loves the hungry.
But Magic would not tarry. It moves from arm to arm.
It would not stay with them.
Magic is afoot. It cannot come to harm.
It rests in an empty palm. It spawns in an empty mind.
But Magic is no instrument. Magic is the end.
Many men drove Magic but Magic stayed behind.
Many strong men lied.
They only passed through Magic and out the other side.
Many weak men lied.
They came to God in secret and though they left him nourished
They would not tell who healed.
Though mountains danced before them they said that God was dead.
Though his shrouds were hoisted the naked God did live.
This I mean to whisper to my mind.
This I mean to laugh with in my mind.
This I mean my mind to serve 'til
Service is but Magic moving through the world,
And mind itself is Magic coursing through the flesh,
And flesh itself is Magic dancing on a clock,
And time itself
The Magic Length of
God.

There is a crack in everything, thats where the light gets in.
(-Leonard Cohen)

What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is the caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.

I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It don't matter how it all went wrong
That don't change the way I feel
And I can't believe that time's
Gonna heal this wound I'm speaking of
There ain't no cure for love

"There's a crack in everything... that's how the light gets in."

"And clenching your fist for those of us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself and said, "Well, never mind, we are ugly but we have the music.'"

"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.