Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love.

Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.

God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands.

Man discovers his own wealth when God comes to ask gifts of him.

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.

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.

The movement of life has its rest in its own music.