Every one of us has in him a continent of undiscovered character. Blessed is he who acts as Columbus to his own soul.
Like the waves in great rivers, there is no turning back of that which has previously been done…The soul is bound with the fetters made of the fruit of good and evil.
When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.
O soul, you worry too much. You have seen your own strength. You have seen your own beauty. You have seen your golden wings. Of anything less, why do you worry? You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
No work stains an individual who is pure, who is in harmony, who is master of his life, whose soul is one with the soul of all.
One who identifies himself with his soul regards bodily transmigration of his soul at death fearlessly, like changing one cloth for another.
For the soul there is neither birth nor death at any time. He has not come into being, does not come into being, and will not come into being. He is unborn, eternal, ever-existing and primeval. He is not slain when the body is slain.
Rain showers my spirit and waters my soul.
