Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

No man can reveal to you nothing but that which already lies half-asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.