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How absurd meditation has become.

The controller, the thinker, the experiencer, are, we think, different from the controlled, from the movement of thought, from the experience. But if we observe closely, the thinker is the thought.

Truth is timeless, sacred, incorruptible. That is meditation. That is a religious mind.

Consciousness is made up of its content; its content is its entire frontier.

Silence has depth, as love.

Beauty is not a word, an emotional response; it is not soft, to be twisted and moulded by thought. When beauty is there, every movement and action in every form of relationship is whole, sane and holy.

Politicians are talking about peace but encouraging war in every land.

The tears of humanity have not washed away our desire to kill.

Religions have not stopped war; on the contrary, they have encouraged it, have blessed the weapons of war and have divided people.

Hardly anyone comes to these woods, full of light and shadows. It is very peaceful there, quiet and isolated.

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Tyrannies can never hold peace for they destroy freedom: peace and freedom go together.

In meditation is peace. Meditation itself is the movement of peace. It is not an end to be found.

Night and day are essential; both give life, energy, to all living things. Only man dissipates it.

The quieter the brain, the deeper the insight.

If there is no harmony, no order in our daily life of relationship, then dreams are a continuance of that disorder.

The inanities that go on in the modern world after nightfall are an escape from the daytime of routine and boredom.

Awareness of ‘what is’ without any choice during the day brings order out of disorder.

Order is the highest form of virtue, sensitivity and intelligence. When there is this great beauty of order and harmony, the brain is not endlessly active.

Anger has a peculiar quality of isolation. Like sorrow, it cuts you off, and for the time being, all relationship comes to an end.