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A good intention clothes itself with sudden power.
But come what may, I do adore thee so
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go!
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.
There is an endless Kingdom to be inhabited.
Some sleep when they should keep awake, and some forget when they should remember. And this is the very cause why often at the resting-places some pilgrims, in some things, come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have already received.
There are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this Slough… these steps are hardly seen… notwithstanding, the steps be there; but the ground is good when they are once got in at the Gate.
Here a man shall be free from the noise and from the hurryings of this life: all states are full of noise and confusion; only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim’s life… in former times men have met with angels here; have found pearls here; and have in this place found the words of life.
Power rests in tranquillity.
Self-will is so ardent and active that it will break a world to pieces to make a stool to sit on.
He who builds upon another man’s ground, loses his mortar and stone.
Here there are neither Russians nor English, Jews nor Christians, but only those who pursue one aim: to be able to be.
To love only what happens, what was destined. No greater harmony.
We are too fond of our own will. We want to be doing what we fancy mighty things, but the great point is to do small things, when called to do them, in a right spirit.
I go before thee to make the crooked places straight.
But ’tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.
Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what’s done,
While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon.
All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time.
Let’s take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them.
I am not a day of season,
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
The time is fair again.
The conscious self is that which remains constant in its pure universality through all particular, changeful experiences.
It is not necessary to think of revelation as a source of knowledge which is either contrary to reason or above reason… On the contrary, it would not be difficult to show that the true idea of revelation, that which is most honouring to God, is at the same time that which is most ennobling to man — the idea, that is, of a revelation which addresses itself, not to the ear or the logical understanding only, but to the whole spiritual nature.
