That Deed Is Not Well Done Of

He Who, Though Dressed In Fine Apparel, Exercises Tranquillity, Is Quiet, Subdued, Restrained, Chaste, And Has Ceased To Find Fault With All Other Beings, He Indeed Is An Ascetic.

That Is The Returning To God Which In Reality Is Never Concluded On Earth But Yet Leaves Behind In The Soul A Divine Home Sickness, Which Never Again Ceases.

Yes, Now I Understood For The First Time That My Soul Was Not So Poor And Empty As It Had Seemed To Me, And That It Had Been Only The Sun That Was Lacking To Open All Its Germs, And Buds To The Light.

The First Pages Of Memory Are Like The Old Family Bible. The First Leaves Are Wholly Faded And Somewhat Soiled With Handling. But, When We Turn Further, And Come To The Chapters Where Adam And Eve Were Banished From Paradise, Then, All Begins To Grow Clear And Legible.

I Spend My Happiest Hours In Reading Vedantic Books. They Are To Me Like The Light Of The Morning, Like The Pure Air Of The Mountains - So Simple, So True, If Once Understood.