Where Dwells the Soul Serene

P. Elder, 1907 - 173 ˹

Դ繨ҡ - ¹Ԩó

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˹ 61 - All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts.
˹ 48 - They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
˹ 125 - ... from us that seems much. All loss, all pain, is particular; the universe remains to the heart unhurt.
˹ 125 - ... that which you earn; no more, no less. Whatever your present environment may be, you will fall, remain, or rise with your thoughts, your Vision, your Ideal. You will become as small as your controlling desire; as great as your dominant aspiration: in the beautiful words of Stanton Kirkham Davis, "You may be keeping accounts, and presently you shall walk out of the door that for so long has seemed to you the barrier of your ideals, and shall find yourself before an audience the pen still behind...
˹ 125 - You may be driving sheep, and you shall wander to the city-bucolic and open-mouthed; shall wander under the intrepid guidance of the spirit into the studio of the master, and after a time he shall say, I have nothing more to teach you.
˹ 9 - He who has become that, he is the immortal, remaining the lord, the knower, the ever-present guardian of this world, who rules this world for ever, for no one else is able to rule it. Seeking for freedom I go for refuge to that God who is the light of his own thoughts...
˹ 97 - Culture forever protests that money is not wealth, but its symbol, merely; that "money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul...
˹ 8 - If God be for me, who can be against me ? It is from ignorance, from mistaken impressions, from the tyranny of supposed laws that we would be free.
˹ 44 - ... is not weakness but strength; and he that apprehends the nature of prayer bends not the knee but towers in majesty. He goes forth to meet his own; he ascends the mount to speak with God. It is the beggar asking alms, the slave imploring mercy, who grovel in the dust.
˹ 63 - ... maintain it in a state of equilibrium, which is health. It is fear that is contagious, not disease; it is fear that spreads epidemics. The fearless are invulnerable. The sweet, cool breeze that rustles the poplar leaves and comes laden with the scent of clover and new-mown hay; the gentle rain that is life to tree and flower and every blade of grass ; the most microscopic and lowly form of life in one and all is seen the possible messenger of death, invested with strange power to sweep us...