“Whoever knows it also knows that in love there is no More and no Less but that he who loves can only love with the whole heart, and with the whole soul with all his strength and with all his will.”
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Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.
And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling rises in the breast.
While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river only the landscape on either bank seems to change.
I spend my happiest hours in reading Vedantic books. They are to me like the light of the morning, like the pure air of the mountains - so simple, so true, if once understood.
