The song I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart . . .

The world speaks to me in colors, my soul answers in music.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain but for the heart to conquer it.

The meaning of the living words that come out of the experiences of great hearts can never be exhausted by any one system of logical interpretation. They have to be endlessly explained by the commentaries of individual lives, and they gain an added mystery in each new revelation.

The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her, the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.

Our self (Soul), as a form of God's joy, is deathless. For his joy is amritham, eternal bliss. We know that the life of a Soul, which is finite in its expression and infinite in its principle, must go through the portals of death in its journey to realize the infinite.

Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.