Man is an onion made up of a hundred integuments, a texture made up of many threads. The ancient Asiatics knew this well enough, and in the Buddhist Yoga an exact technique was devised for unmasking the illusion of the personality. The human merry-go-round sees many changes: the illusion that cost India the efforts of thousands of years to unmask is the same illusion that the West has labored just as hard to maintain and strengthen.

I began to understand that suffering and disappointments and melancholy are there not to vex us or cheapen us or deprive us of our dignity but to mature and transfigure us.

Words can not express the joy of new life.

You've never lived what you are thinking, and that isn't good. Only the ideas we actually live are of any value.

What is the holding of breath? It is a flight from the Self, it is a temporary escape from the torment of Self. It is a temporary palliative against the pain and folly of life.

What you call passion is not spiritual force, but friction between the soul and the outside world.

If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion.