Working hours are never long enough. Each day is a holiday, and ordinary holidays are grudged as enforced interruptions in an absorbing vocation.
God provideth every one with his daily food; why, O man, art thou immersed planning; He putteth their food even before the insects which He created in rocks and stones.
For him who has completed the journey, for him who is sorrowless, for him who from everything is wholly free, for him who has destroyed all ties, the fever of passion exists not… He is like a pool, unsullied by mud; to such a balanced one, life’s wanderings do not arise. Calm is his mind, calm is his speech, calm is his action, who, rightly knowing, is wholly freed, perfectly peaceful and equipoised.
By degrees, little by little, from time to time, a wise person should remove his own impurities as a smith removes the dross from silver.
