Puran Singh

The Holy One, Lord of All, is in the Saint as fragrance is in the rose-leaves.

The saint said:—"The heart of the Punjab girl is the convent where worship of the son of Man is taught. The heart of woman is the Temple where Man is enshrined as God, The Punjab is great for the love of Man more than for the love of God."

How lovely are the gentle ways of unlettered maidens!

No true woman deems herself a widow; whether he be gone to distant lands, or gone to the Master's country yonder, she waits for him; her Man is sure to come back, her Man for ever hers, no death can untie the knot of her arms that wreathe …

O Châtrik! Lover of the cloud-clad skies, a thirst, a longing for the nectar drop! Thou hast the soul of a disciple that pants for Hari Nâm!

The greener the garden, the brighter burns my heart!

Koel! what lightning fell? what singed thy wings? What keeps thee fresh, yet charred?