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Lay your sleeping head, my love
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral;
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie:
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.
--
Lines 1-2

 

Wystan Hugh Auden

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All these He will swiftly lead
to the Paradise road: they are safe.
That done, there must take place that struggle
no human presumes to picture:
living, dying, descending to rescue the just
from shadow, were lesser travails
than this: to break
through earth and stone of the faithless world
back to the cold sepulcher, tearstained
stifling shroud; to break from them
back into breath and heartbeat, and walk
the world again, closed into days and weeks again,
wounds of His anguish open, and Spirit
streaming through every cell of flesh
so that if mortal sight could bear
to perceive it, it would be seen
His mortal flesh was lit from within, now,
and aching for home. He must return,
first, in Divine patience, and know
hunger again, and give
to humble friends the joy
of giving Him food — fish and a honeycomb.

 

Denise Levertov

 

For beauty called to beauty and there thronged at the enchanter's will
The vanished hours of love that burn within the Ever-living still.

 

George William Russell

 

They have read your novel . . . and they said only one thing, that, unfortunately, it is not finished. So I wanted to show you your hero. He has been sitting here for about two thousand years, sleeping, but, when the moon is full, he is tormented, as you see, by insomnia. And it torments not only him, but his faithful guardian, the dog. If it is true that cowardice is the most grave vice, then the dog, at least, is not guilty of it. The only thing that brave creature ever feared was thunderstorms. But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the one who is loved.

 

Mikhail Bulgakov

 

Today is such a joyous day for me because we have children and we are dealing with children, most of them are born-realised, they are of a very special category, I've told you many a times. But we spoil them because we were not born-realised, so we don't know how to handle these special children, we spoil them. Not only we spoil them but we interfere with the school, we interfere with this, as if we are the wisest parents. Because we are SYogis we have to be much more sensible than other parents. How can you interfere with any school anywhere? But in SYoga you will! It is because there is no wisdom and no understanding of what is good and benevolent for your child. If you love your child then you must think of its benevolence. You must learn from the experience what happens to children if they are left like that. You cannot spoil your child, you cannot. Because its a special category of children they are. They are not children who can become vagabonds, they cannot become thieves. So you'll make them something funny they are neither here not there, they are born realised and they have to be channelised properly to achieve their complete manifestation of their spirit. So the possessiveness, and the stupid attachment to children must be given-up. There is no force on you , if you want to destroy your child you can destroy. But in an advice. If you are Ganeshas you would have understood it, I don't have to explain so much. What is good for your child, because we have to have beautiful children. They are born beautiful children, I tell you, if they are spoiled is because of you, you have spoiled them. You have ruined them. You are responsible. I know of many of so many children, they are very very sweet, I have conference with them also, and I find them much more congenial, I have a much better report that I can have with you: They never argue, never, they never say no, and they have very good information about all of you. [Shri Ganesha Puja in Cabella 15.9.91]

 

Mataji Nirmala Srivastava

 

Love, which is lust, is the Lamp in the Tomb.
Love, which is lust, is the Call from the Gloom.
Love, which is lust, is the Main of Desire.
Love, which is lust, is the Centric Fire.
So man and woman will keep their trust,
Till the very Springs of the Sea run dust.
Yea, each with the other will lose and win,
Till the very Sides of the Grave fall in.
For the strife of Love's the abysmal strife,
And the word of Love is the Word of Life.
And they that go with the Word unsaid,
Though they seem of the living, are damned and dead.

 

William Ernest Henley