When performing an autopsy, even the most inveterate spiritualist would have to question where the soul is.
You look at any poetic creature: muslin, ether, demigoddess, millions of delights; then you look into the soul and find the most ordinary crocodile!
Everything should be first-rate in a person, his face, clothes, soul and thoughts.
When one sees one of the romantic creatures before him he imagines he is looking at some holy being, so wonderful that its one breath could dissolve him in a sea of a thousand charms and delights; but if one looks into the soul -- it's nothing but a common crocodile.
For the salvation of his soul the Muslim digs a well. It would be a fine thing if each of us were to leave behind a school, or a well, or something of the sort, so that life would not pass by and retreat into eternity without a trace.
They say philosophers and wise men are indifferent. Wrong. Indifference is a paralysis of the soul, a premature death.
The desire to serve the common good must without fail be a requisite of the soul, a necessity for personal happiness; if it issuesnot from there, but from theoretical or other considerations, it is not at all the same thing.
Not one of our mortal gauges is suitable for evaluating non-existence, for making judgments about that which is not a person.
It's not a matter of old or new forms; a person writes without thinking about any forms, he writes because it flows freely from his soul.