Quotes from Bhartrhari

Let us keep a firm grip upon our money, for without it the whole assembly of virtues are but as blades of grass.

Kindness can turn the bad man's heart, and fools convert to wise, Make poison into nectar-juice, and friends of enemies.

I have not wasted life, but life hath wasted me.

I have not wasted life, but life hath wasted me.

With fools forbear to argue--better strive to wake the dead.

A man may tear a jewel From a sea monster's jaws, Cross a tumultuous sea Of raging tides, Or twine garlandwise A wrathful serpent on his head. But no man can alter The thoughts of an obstinate fool.

Nothing is born which Death makes not subject of his state.

Those who possess that treasure which no thief can take away, Which, though on suppliants freely spent, increaseth day by day, The source of inward happiness which shall outlast the earth-- To them e'en kings should yield the palm, and own their higher worth.

Hope is the name of this river, whose water is Desire, And Thirst the waves thereof.

Our life is like th' unstable wave, Our bloom of youth decays. Our joys are brief as lightning flash In summer's cloudy days, Our riches fleet as swift as thought; Faith in the One Supreme Alone will bear us o'er the gulfs Of Being's stormy stream.

A bald man felt the sun's fierce rays Scorch his defenseless head, In haste to shun the noontide blaze Beneath a palm he fled: Prone as he lay, a heavy fruit Crashed through his drowsy brain: Whom fate has sworn to persecute Finds every refuge vain.

Morn after morn dispels the dark, Bearing our lives away; Absorbed in cares we fail to mark How swift our years decay; Some maddening draught hath drugged our souls, In love with vital breath, Which still the same sad chart unrolls, Birth, eld, disease, and death.

While his body's vigor is whole And old age is remote; While his sensuous powers are unimpaired And life not yet exhausted; Only then would a wise man Strive to perfect his soul. Why attempt to dig a well When the house is already burning?

Neither rings, bright chains, nor bracelets, perfumes, flowers, nor well-trimmed hair, Grace a man like polished language, th' only jewel he should wear.

Poets are ever lords, though short of pence.

I've wandered over many lands, and reaped withal no fruit, I've laid my pride of rank aside, and pressed my baffled suit, At stranger boards, like shameless crow, I've eaten bitter bread, But fierce Desire, that raging fire, still clamours to be fed.

Trees are bowed down with weight of fruit, Clouds big with rain hang low, So good men humbly bear success, Nor overweening grow.

Time did not fly, yet we are gone.

She who is always in my thoughts prefers Another man, and does not think of me. Yet he seeks for another's love, not hers; And some poor girl is grieving for my sake. Why then, the devil take Both her and him and love and her and me.

When I knew a thing or two, pride kept me blind. I was a like a rutting buck, mind so stained I imagined "I'm a buddha." Then bit by bit I approached the truly wise-minded and saw myself a fool-- pride was a fever that finally broke.

He brings thee joy, thy foes dismays, Thy secrets hides, proclaims thy praise, With timely gifts relieves thy need, Thus may'st thou know the "friend indeed."

Sweet maid, you perform a singular feat With the archer's bow. You pierce hearts not with arrows, But with strands of your beauty.

Knowledge is wonderful and truth serene But man in their service bleeds.

The moth unwitting rushes on the fire, Through ignorance the fish devours the bait, We men know well the foes that lie in wait, Yet cannot shun the meshes of desire.