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.

Work cannot convey the almost voluptuous sweetness of the feelings experienced ... in solitude.

Who knows the flower best? - the one who reads about it in a book, or the one who finds it wild on the mountainside?

The unsuspected is the daily fare of the traveler in Thibet.

Suffering raises up those souls that are truly great; it is only small souls that are made mean-spirited by it.

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.