Praise shames me, for I secretly beg for it.

While God waits for His temple to be built of love, men bring stones.

The higher nature in man always seeks for something which transcends itself and yet is its deepest truth; which claims all its sacrifice, yet makes this sacrifice its own recompense. This is man's dharma, man's religion, and man's self is the vessel.

We do not want nowadays temples of worship and outward rites and ceremonies. What we really want is an Asram. We want a place where the beauty of nature and the noblest pursuits of man are in a sweet harmony.

The night kissed the fading day With a whisper: "I am death, your mother, From me you will get new birth."

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

You have given me Your love, filling the world with Your gifts.