A flower cannot blossom without sunshine and man cannot live without love.
Of these years nought remains in memory, but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.
Soon the child learns that there are strangers, and ceases to be a child.
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.
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For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.
The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.
We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future.