Who knows the flower best? - the one who reads about it in a book, or the one who finds it wild on the mountainside?
To the one who knows how to look and feel, every moment of this free wandering life is an enchantment.
All things are aggregations of atoms that dance & by their movement produce sound. When the rhythm of the dance changes, the sound it produces also changes... Each atom perpetually sings its song, and the sound at every moment creates dense subtle forms.
Neglecting small things under the pretext of wanting to accomplish large ones is the excuse of a coward.
The wise expect nothing, hope for nothing, thus avoiding all disappointment and anxiety.
Nature has a language of its own, or maybe those who have lived long in solitude read in it their own unconscious inner feelings and mysterious foreknowledge.
Suffering raises up those souls that are truly great; it is only small souls that are made mean-spirited by it.
Landscapes have a language of their own, expressing the soul of the things, lofty or humble, which constitute them, from the mighty peaks to the smallest of the tiny flowers hidden in the meadow's grass.
Very few of us are capable of being Free Thinkers, needing neither to adore nor to insult God, the insult often being an act of faith more profound than adoration.
One must be very strong, or very stupid, or completely exhausted to face life with indifference.
There is nothing truly serious in life. All words sound hollow when one listens to them carefully.
Guard against idols -- yes, guard against all idols, of which surely the greatest is oneself.
The unsuspected is the daily fare of the traveler in Thibet.
As a stoic I must despise injury or, rather, I must not feel it, must not be affected by it so that it cannot violate the freedom of my soul.
"To fashion stars out of dog dung, that is the Great Work. To take a negative experience and, by comparing it to something worse, make it feel good, is the great skill."
Why do you pray if you doubt you are heard?
Work cannot convey the almost voluptuous sweetness of the feelings experienced ... in solitude.
