The morning hour has gold at the mouth.

As a tree, even though it has been cut down, is firm so long as its root is safe, and grows again, thus, unless the feeders of thirst are destroyed, the pain (of life) will return again and again.

And if I were to ask myself from what literature we who have been nurtured almost exclusively on the thoughts of Greeks and Romans, and of the Semitic race, the Jewish, may draw the corrective which is most wanted in order to make our inner life more perfect, more comprehensive, more universal, in fact more truly human a life... again I should point to India.

The scent of flowers does not travel against the wind; but the odor of good people travels; even against the wind: a good man pervades every place.

Every life has its years in which one progresses as on a tedious and dusty street of poplars, without caring to know where he is.

That is the returning to God which in reality is never concluded on earth but yet leaves behind in the soul a divine home sickness, which never again ceases.

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.