There's No Heart Like The Indian Heart.

There's No Believing In God...we Either Know God, Or We Don't.

But The Soul Has No Culture. The Soul Has No Nations. The Soul Has No Colour Or Accent Or Way Of Life. The Soul Is Forever. The Soul Is One. And When The Heart Has Its Moment Of Truth And Sorrow, The Soul Can't Be Stilled.

The Contrast Between The Familiar And The Exceptional Was Everywhere Around Me. A Bullock Cart Was Drawn Up Beside A Modern Sports Car At A Traffic Signal. A Man Squatted To Relieve Himself Behind The Discreet Shelter Of A Satellite Dish. An Electric Forklift Truck Was Being Used To Unload Goods From An Ancient Wooden Cart With Wooden Wheels. The Impression Was Of A Plodding Indefatigable And Distant Past That Had Crashed Intact Through Barriers Of Time Into Its Own Future. I Liked It.

Glory Belongs To God, Of Course; That's What The Word Really Means. And You Can't Serve God With A Gun.

Suffering Is How We Test Our Love Especially Our Love For God.