Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.

I shall no longer be instructed by the Yoga Veda or the Aharva Veda, or the ascetics, or any other doctrine whatsoever. I shall learn from myself, be a pupil of myself; I shall get to know myself, the mystery of Siddhartha." He looked around as if he were seeing the world for the first time.

Love your suffering. Do not resist it, do not flee from it. It is only your aversion to it that hurts, nothing else.

When we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

One can beg, buy, be presented with and find love in the streets, but it can never be stolen.

A mere nothing suffices — and the lightning strikes.

Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom.