“While the river of life glides along smoothly, it remains the same river only the landscape on either bank seems to change.”
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That is the returning to God which in reality is never concluded on earth but yet leaves behind in the soul a divine home sickness, which never again ceases.
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.
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.
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.