There is no evolving, only unfolding. The lily is in the bit of dust which is its beginning, lily and nothing but lily: and the lily in blossom is a ne plus ultra: there is no evolving beyond.

I am turned into a dream. I feel nothing, or I don't know what I feel. Yet it seems to me I am happy.

Men always do leave off really thinking, when the last bit of wild animal dies in them.

Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.

The true self is not aware that it is a self. A bird, as it sings, sings itself. But not according to a picture. It has no idea of itself.

I believe that there was a great age, a great epoch when man did not make war: previous to 2000 B.C. Then the self had not reallybecome aware of itself, it had not separated itself off, the spirit was not yet born, so there was no internal conflict, and hence no permanent external conflict.

There is no such thing as liberty. You only change one sort of domination for another. All we can do is to choose our master.