It's a very beautiful river. I love it above everything. I have often listened to it, gazed at it, and I have always learned something about it. One can learn much from a river.
He felt the urge to enter the grove immediately, but he thought it over for it had just occurred to him how the men, servants, and maids had looked at him at the entrance, so scornfully, so distrustfully, so dismissing in their glance.
I am still a Samana, he thought, still ascetic and a beggar. I cannot remain one; I cannot enter the grove like this. And he laughed.
Has a Samana, or a Brahmin ever feared that someone could come and strike him and rob him of his knowledge, of his piety, of his power or depth of thought? No, because they belong to himself, and he can only give of them what he wishes, and if he wishes. That is exactly how it is with Kamala and with the pleasures of love.
Smiling, acknowledged Kamala better, thought the young Samana to make sacrifices to the fair Kamala than to offer sacrifices to the gods.
He was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of pride. He was a Samana no long; it was no longer fitting that he should beg. He gave the rice cake to a dog and remained without food.
For a long time Siddhartha had lived the life of the world without belonging to it. His senses, which had deadened during his ardent Samana years, were again awakened. He had tasted riches, passion, and power, but for a long time he remained a Samana in his heart.