I think the source of our sorrow and the source of our joy are intimately entwined. Our sorrow is that we have forgotten who we are, we have forgotten we are one with that source of all life - absolutely indestructible, perfect, joyful. The source of our joy is when we remember that.

Heaven isnot a place, and it isnot atime.Heaven isbeing perfect.

How easy it is to be compassionate when it's yourself you see in trouble.

We design our lives through the power of choices.

It's like a pulsar inside me. There is this great burst of energy, forcing me to write, and then the star goes quiet for a time, and I think it's gone, but it's gathering energy for another burst. And I seem to be almost unwilling participants in this.

Most gulls don't bother to learn more than the simplest facts of flight - how to get from shore to food and back again

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, that's why we call it the present. If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And If not now, when? A brick alone is nothing but a brick. It takes a collection of bricks to build a house. Instructor, what?? You mean you teach best what you most need to learn