While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river; only the landscape on either bank seems to change.
Language is the Rubicon that divides man from beast.
The morning hour has gold at the mouth.
The spring of love becomes hidden and soon filled up.
The Vedic literature opens to us a chapter in what has been called the education of the human race to which we can find no parallel anywhere else.
Would not the child's heart break in despair when the first cold storm of the world sweeps over it, if the warm sunlight of love from the eyes of mother and father did not shine upon him like the soft reflection of divine light and love?