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Other animals ran only when they had a reason, but the horse would run for no reason whatever, as if to run out of his own skin
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While God waits for his temple to be built of love, men bring stones.
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The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her, the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.
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In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my house. I find her not. My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained. But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have come to thy door.
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Overstraining is the enemy of accomplishment. Calm strength that arises from a deep and inexhaustible source is what brings success.
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When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.
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The more one lives alone on the river or in the open country, the clearer it becomes that nothing is more beautiful or great than to perform the ordinary duties of one's daily life simply and naturally.
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Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
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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.
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Yet what each one does is by no means of little moment. The grass has to put forth all its energy to draw sustenance from the uttermost tips of its rootlets simply to grow where it is as grass; it does not vainly strive to become a banyan tree; and so the earth gains a lovely carpet of green.
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At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
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Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.
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If you allow your mind to carp at all and sundry, it will turn against itself: the majority of our sorrows are self-inflicted.
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when you came you cried and everybody smiled with joy; when you go smile and let the world cry for you.
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The birds looked upon me as nothing but a man, quite a trifling creature without wings-and they would have nothing to do with me. Were it not so I would build a small cabin for myself among their crowd of nests and pass my days counting the sea waves.
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Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
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The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
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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 . . .
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We sit inert, like dead specimens of some museum, while lessons are pelted at us from on high, like hailstones on flowers.
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Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?
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And joy is everywhere; it is in the earth's green covering of grass; in the blue serenity of the sky.
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Religion, like poetry, is not a mere idea, it is expression. The self-expression of God is in the endless variety of creation; and our attitude toward the Infinite Being must also in its expression have a variety of individuality ceaseless and unendi.
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Pessimism is a form of mental dipsomania; it disdains healthy nourishment, indulges in the strong drink of denunciation, and creates an artificial dejection which thirsts for a stronger draught.
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The pious sectarian is proud because he is confident of his right of possession in God. The man of devotion is meek because he is conscious of God's right of love over his life and soul.