While One Is Young Is The Time

Silence Is Difficult And Arduous; It Is Not To Be Played With. It Isn't Something That You Can Experience By Reading A Book, Or By Listening To A Talk, Or By Sitting Together, Or By Retiring Into A Wood Or A Monastery. I Am Afraid None Of These Things Will Bring About This Silence. This Silence Demands Intense Psychological Work. You Have To Be Burningly Aware - Aware Of Your Speech, Aware Of Your Snobbishness, Aware Of Your Fears, Your Anxieties, Your Sense Of Guilt. And When You Die To All That, Then Out Of That Dying Comes The Beauty Of Silence.

Happiness Comes Uninvited: And The Moment That You Are Conscious That You Are Happy, You Are No Longer Happy.

As We Are Concerned With What Others Think Of Us, So We Are Anxious To Know All About Them; And From This Arise The Crude And Subtle Forms Of Snobbishness And The Worship Of Authority. Thus We Become More And More Externalized And Inwardly Empty. The More Externalized We Are, The More Sensations And Distractions There Must Be, And This Gives Rise To A Mind That Is Never Quiet, That Is Not Capable Of Deep Search And Discovery.

There's A Great And Unutterable Beauty In All This.

When We Talk About Understanding, Surely It Takes Place Only When The Mind Listens Completely - The Mind Being Your Heart, Your Nerves, Your Ears- When You Give Your Whole Attention To It.