Many is the mirage I chased. Always I was overreaching myself. The oftener I touched reality, the harder I bounced back to the world of illusion, which is the name for everyday life.

Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning.

Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.

The moment one is on the side of life; peace and security drop out of consciousness. The only peace, the only security, is in fulfillment.

The man who is intoxicated with life does not pass judgment, does not seek to come to a conclusion, does not impose his message on the world.

We create our fate every day . . . most of the ills we suffer from are directly traceable to our own behavior.

At Epidaurus, in the stillness, in the great peace that came over me, I heard the heart of the world beat. I know what the cure is: it is to give up, to relinquish, to surrender, so that our little hearts may beat in unison with the great heart of the world.