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.
The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.
You look at it, but it is not to be seen; Its name is Formless. You listen to it, but it is not to be heard; Its name is Soundless. You grasp it, but it is not to be held; Its name is Bodiless. These three elude all scrutiny. And hence they blend and become one.
Chant the name of God with heartfelt devotion. Everything else is just a pompous worldly show.
