“Then all this earth shines like one house.”

Meditation applies the brakes to the mind.

The mind is only a bundle of thoughts. The thoughts have their root in the I-thought. Whoever investigates the True “I” enjoys the stillness of bliss.

Even the structure of the atom has been found by the mind.

Silence is also conversation.

Even the structure of the atom has been found by the mind. Therefore the mind is subtler than the atom. That which is behind the mind, namely the individual soul, is subtler than the mind.

If you go the way of your thoughts you will be carried away by them and you will find yourself in an endless maze.

Without seeing the origin of light, the true form of one’s Self, the ordinary man sees by the mind different things and is deluded.

Doubts arise because of an absence of surrender.

Realisation is nothing new to be acquired. It is already there, but obstructed by a screen of thoughts. All our attempts are directed to lifting this screen and then realisation is revealed.

Turn your vision inward and then the whole world will be full of the Supreme Spirit.

If you go on working with the light available, you will meet your Master, as he himself will be seeking you.

Let knowledge be guessed by the sign of equality to all beings.

Self-reform automatically brings about social reform.

You need not aspire for or get any new state. Get rid of your present thoughts, that is all.

Once the current of awareness of the self is set afoot, it becomes everlasting and continuous by intensification.

Grace is within you. If it were external, it would be useless.

Law and order comes from having respect for one another.

I didn’t start out as a writer. I became one through my habits.

Let your spark be the guiding light to the lost ones.

Prayer is a friendly conversation with the One we know loves us.

Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

If one fears men much he will never do anything great for God: all that one does for God arouses persecution.

The clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.

There can be no whiter whiteness than this one: An insurance man’s shirt on its morning run.