It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
For what is prayer but the expansion of your self into the living ether?
Knowledge of the self is the mother of all knowledge. So it is incumbent on me to know my self, to know it completely, to know its minutiae, its characteristics, its subtleties, and its very atoms.
If winter should say, 'Spring is in my heart,' who would believe winter?
When you have solved all the mysteries of life you long for death, for it is but another mystery of life.