And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind.
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not form love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
It is slavery to live in the mind unless it has become part of the body
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories