Tukaram, Poem 332

See and perdition are contrived by the mind; send your mind to a solitary spot, to dwell with holy men; watch over it, for it runs a headlong course of its own. Honour and dishonour are the tokens by which the mind judges; but it will concentrate itself if you force it to. Tuka says, ’Tis the mind that carries us over the stream of the world, or binds us to the eighty-four million re-births.