This accidental meeting of possibilities calls itself I. I ask: what am I doing here? And, at once, this I becomes unreal.

At every moment you choose yourself. But do you choose *your* self? Body and soul contain a thousand possibilities out of which you can build many I's. But in one of them is there a congruence of the elector and the elected. Only one--which you will never find until you have excluded all those superficial and fleeting possibilities of being and doing with which you toy, out of curiosity or wonder or greed, and which hinder you from casting anchor in the experience of the mystery of life, and the consciousness of the talent entrusted to you which is your *I*.

I am the vessel. The draft is God's. And God is the thirsty one.

He is one of those who has had the wilderness for a pillow, and called a star his brother. Alone. But loneliness can be a communion.

Do not look back and do not dream about the future. It will neither give you back the past, nor satisfy your other daydreams. Your duty, your reward, your destiny, is in the present moment

Maturity - among other things, the unclouded happiness of the child at play, who takes it for granted that he is at one with his play-mates.

The longest journey is the journey inwards. Of him who has chosen his destiny, Who has started upon his quest for the source of his being.