You are willing to die, you coward, but not to live.

Oh, love isn't there to make us happy. I believe it exists to show us how much we can endure.

My real self wanders elsewhere, far away, wanders on and on invisibly and has nothing to do with my life.

So you can't dance? Not at all? Not even one step? How can you say that you've taken any trouble to live when you won't even dance?

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.

All life was a breath exhaled by God. All dying was a breath inhaled by God.

When all the Self was conquered and dead, when all passions and desires were silent, then the last must awaken, the innermost of Being that is no longer Self - the great secret!