Deeply, he felt the love for the run-away in his heart, like a wound, and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. That this wound did not blossom yet, did not shine yet, at this hour, made him sad. Instead of the desired goal, which had drawn him here following the runaway son, there was now emptiness.

It was lovely, and tempting, to exert power over men and to shine before others, but power also had its perditions and perils.

What is meditation?... It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice wine or fermented coconut-milk.

One must find the source within one's own Self, one must possess it. Everything else was seeking -- a detour, an error.

What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find.

A father can pass on his nose and eyes and even his intelligence to his child, but not his soul. In every human being the soul is new

Lovers should not separate from each other after making love without admiring each other, without being conquered as well as conquering, so that no feeling of satiation or desolation arises nor the horrid feeling of misusing or having been misused.