But one thing this doctrine, so clean, so venerable, does not contain: it does nto contain the secret of what the Sublime One himself experienced, he alone among the hundreds of thousands. This is why I am continuing my wanderings not to seek another, better doctrine, because I know there is none, but to leave behind all the teachings and all teachers, and either attain my goal alone or die.

How beautiful the world was when one looked at it, without searching... just looked, simply and innocently.

Solitude is independence. It had been my wish and with the years I had attained it. It was cold. Oh, cold enough! But it was also still, wonderfully still and vast like the cold stillness of space in which the stars revolve.

You must find your dream...but no dream lasts forever, each dream is followed by another, and one should not cling to any particular dream.

Oh, if I had had a friend at this moment, a friend in an attic room, dreaming by candlelight and with a violin lying ready at his hand! How I should have slipped up to him in his quiet hour, noiselessly climbing the winding stair to take him by surprise, and then with talk and music we should have held heavenly festival throughout the night!

I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha.

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