"Virtue has never been as respectable as money."

- Mark Twain

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The heart is attracted.  Someone pulls it as it were with myriad ropes.  Tremendous is its pain too like thousands of thorns thrust in it.  But it is futile to deny that the heart is attracted.

        Tears are flowing incessantly down the cheeks.  Nights are spent sleeplessly and the extremely uneasy mind is not interested in performing ones duty.  Everywhere is seen her smiling sweet self refreshing the recollection.  But it is difficult to realize that the pain is excruciating.

        Excessively melancholy is this music and highly soul-piercing are the silent repercussions of it.  Still it is impossible to tell that such heart-breaking is the pain of love.

        We meet and depart.  An on her heart’s stage too is played such a melodious drama of love; it can be comprehended.  But it cannot be said that the soul is love-sick.  And therein lies the real rejoicing.  Love is an unmanifested deity.  It seldom needs revelation with the help of words.

(From Shri Yogeshwarji's book entitled 'Tunes unto the Infinite')