This Self who gives rise to all works, all desires, all odours, all tastes, who pervades the universe, who is beyond words, who is joy abiding, who is ever present in my heart, is Brahmn indeed. To him I shall attain when my ego dies.
For which of you desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?
How much suffering and fear, and how many harmful things are in existence? If all arises from clinging to the “I”, what should I do with this great demon?
Faith is nourishment, virtuous deeds are a shelter, wisdom is light by day and right mindfulness is protection by night.
The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.
