When I go from hence, let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

Your idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God's dust is greater than your idol.

I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.

The touch of an infinite mystery passes over the trivial and the familiar, making it break out into ineffable music... The trees, the stars, and the blue hills ache with a meaning which can never be uttered in words.

Who are you, a hundred years from today, reading my poetry with curiosity?

The meaning of our self is not to be found in its separateness from God and others, but in the ceaseless realization of yoga, of union; not on the side of the canvas where it is blank, but on the side where the picture is being painted.

Death belongs to life as birth does The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down