“Before we had our becoming here, we existed There, men other than now; we were pure souls.”

As in certain combinations so words and in all kinds of music; for melodies and cadences are beautiful; and minds that lift themselves above the realm of sense to a higher order are aware of beauty in the conduct of life.

In actions, in character, in the pursuits of the intellect; and there is the beauty of the virtues.

Become vision itself.

As the eye waits on the rising of the Sun which in its own time appears above the horizon and gives itself to our sight.

And this is the life of the Gods, and of Godlike men, a life without love of the world, a flight of the Alone to the Alone.

The stars are like letters that inscribe themselves at every moment in the sky.

Mankind is poised midway between the gods and the beasts.

In this state of absorbed contemplation, there is no longer any question of holding an object in view.

There is one and the same soul in many bodies.

Beauty addresses itself chiefly to sight, but there is a beauty for the hearing too.

If someone with the right conduct tries to attain to something that lies outside of it, is his goal not the right conduct.

Life here with the things of the earth is a sinking, a defeat, a failing of the wing.

One word was uttered and from every side an ear attended and received and there was an effective hearing.

It is bad enough to be condemned to drag around this image in which nature has imprisoned me.

Knowing ourselves, we are beautiful; in self-ignorance, we are ugly.

Clearly, either in the Soul alone, or in the Soul as employing the body, or in some third entity deriving from both. And for this third entity, again, there are two possible modes: it might be either a blend or a distinct form due to the blending.