Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another ruler with trumpetings again. Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle. Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Knowledge cultivates your seeds and does not sow in your seeds.

Give me an ear and I will give you a Voice.

Your daily life is your temple and your religion. When you enter into it take with you your all.

Yet has not Man wept at the sounds? And are not his tears eloquent understanding?

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

God has created several doors which open onto truth. He opens them to all those who knock on them with the hand of faith.