Lord, I could in truth say that I have neither Yoga nor any virtues, for I am completely divested of that which constitutes the glory of all those who want to serve Thee. Apparently my life is as ordinary and banal as can be; and inwardly what is it? Nothing but a calm tranquillity without any variation or surprises; the calm of a something which has realised and no longer seeks itself, which no longer expects anything from life and things, which acts without reckoning upon any profit, knowing perfectly that this action does not belong to it in any way, either in its impulsion or in its result; which wills, being aware that the supreme Will alone wills in it; a calm all made of an incontestable certitude, an objectless knowledge, a causeless joy, a self-existent state of consciousness which no longer belongs to time. It is an immobility moving in the domain of external life, yet without belonging to it or seeking to escape from it. I hope for nothing, expect nothing, desire nothing, aspire for nothing and, above all, I am nothing; and yet happiness, a calm, unmixed happiness, a happiness unaware of itself, which does not need to look at its own being, has come to dwell in the house of this body. This happiness is Thou, O Lord, and this calm is Thou, Lord, for these are not human faculties and men’s senses can neither appreciate nor enjoy them. Thus it is Thou, O Lord, who dwellest in this body, and that is why this corporeal abode seems so poor and drab for so marvellous an occupant.