But it's a poor fellow who can't take his pleasure without asking other people's permission.

Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself

The opposite of every truth is just as true.

We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.

The world, Govinda my friend, is not imperfect, not to be seen as on a slow path toward perfection: No, it is perfect in every moment, all transgression already bears grace within itself, all little children already have the aged in themselves, all the sucklings death, all the dying eternal life.

Every sin already carries grace within in, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people - eternal life. The Buddha exists in the robber and dice player; the robber exists in the Brahmin.

The world was beautiful when looked at in this way-without any seeking, so simple, so childlike.