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.

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.

"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."

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.

Why do you pray if you doubt you are heard?