Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colours, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
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.
Love is the firstborn, loftier than the gods, fathers and men. You, O Love, are the eldest of all, altogether mighty. To you we pay homage!...
To whom praise and blame are equal, who is silent, content with every fortune, home-renouncing, steadfast in mind, and worships Me, that person is dear to me.
When the force of the desire for Truth blossoms, selfish desires wither away, just like darkness vanishes before the radiance of the light of dawn.
