It Is The Heart That Makes The

I Have Declared Again And Again That If I Say Aryans, I Mean Neither Blood Nor Bones, Nor Hair Nor Skull; I Mean Simply Those Who Speak An Aryan Language. In That Sense, And In That Sense Only, Do I Say That Even The Blackest Hindus Represent An Earlier Stage Of Aryan Speech And Thought Than The Fairest Scandinavians. To Me An Ethnologist Who Speaks Of Aryan Race, Aryan Blood, Aryan Eyes And Hair, Is As Great A Sinner As A Linguist Who Speaks Of A Dolichocephalic Dictionary Or A Brachycephalic Grammar.

The Translation Of The Veda Will Hereafter Tell To A Great Extent On The Fate Of India And On The Growth Of Millions Of Souls In That Country. It Is The Root Of Their Religion, And To Show Them What The Root Is, I Feel Sure, Is The Only Way Of Uprooting All That Has Sprung From It During The Last 3000 Years.

He Who, By Causing Pain To Others, Wishes To Obtain Pleasure For Himself, He, Entangled In The Bonds Of Hatred, Will Never Be Free From Hatred.

He Who, Though Dressed In Fine Apparel, Exercises Tranquillity, Is Quiet, Subdued, Restrained, Chaste, And Has Ceased To Find Fault With All Other Beings, He Indeed Is An Ascetic.

I Know Well There Is No Comfort For This Pain Of Parting. The Wound Always Remains, But One Learns To Bear The Pain, And Learns To Thank God For What He Gave. For The Beautiful Memories Of The Past, And The Yet More Beautiful Hope For The Future.