One can call these moments creative, because they seem to give a feeling of union with the creator, and while they last, one is sensible of everything being necessary, even what is seemingly fortuitous. It is what the mystics call union with God.
No man has ever been entirely and completely himself. Yet each one strives to become that — one in an awkward, the other in a more intelligent way, each as best he can.
Never is a man or a deed wholly Samsara or wholly Nirvana; never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner.
Man’s life seems to me like a long, weary night that would be intolerable if there were not occasionally flashes of light, the sudden brightness of which is so comforting and wonderful, that the moments of their appearance cancel out and justify the years of darkness.
Love isn’t there to make us happy. I believe it exists to show us how much we can endure.
Love does not entreat; or demand. Love must have the strength to become certain within itself. Then it ceases merely to be attracted and begins to attract.
Learn what is to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest.
It’s possible for one never to transgress a single law and still be a bastard.
It was lovely, and tempting, to exert power over men and to shine before others, but power also had its perditions and perils.
It matters little that you suffer, so long as you feel alive with a sense of the close bond that connects all living things, so long as love does not die!
It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is: each the other’s opposite and complement.
It is not for me to judge another person’s life. Only for myself alone, I must decide, I must chose, I must refuse.