The human soul is on its journey from the law to love, from discipline to liberation, from the moral plane to the spiritual.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.

Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart.

Poems On Time The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth. Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.

Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.

The cure for all the illness of life is stored in the inner depth of life itself, the access to which becomes possible when we are alone. This solitude is a world in itself, full of wonders and resources unthought of. It is absurdly near; yet so unapproachably distant.

It's far better to make people angry than to make them ashamed.