A Bridge of Dreams: The Story of Paramananda, a Modern Mystic, and His Ideal of All-conquering LoveParamananda, a disciple of Vive-kananda in the Ramakrishna lineage, came to the United States in 1906. A Bridge of Dreams tells the story of his life and community. |
Contents
| 15 | |
| 20 | |
| 25 | |
With Swami Vivekananda | 44 |
The Madras Math | 66 |
New York Tempest | 83 |
Boston Beginnings | 115 |
Washington | 139 |
Love Will Conquer | 306 |
The Swamis Calamity | 344 |
Concorde and Discord | 379 |
Betrayal | 413 |
Fire and Flood | 427 |
Disappointment In Friends | 455 |
The Great Reassurer | 477 |
Sister Daya | 509 |
To Infuse The Spirit | 151 |
The Heathen Invasion | 171 |
The Tide Turns | 197 |
Queensberry Street | 217 |
Sister Devamata | 248 |
Ananda Ashrama | 272 |
The End of Spring | 533 |
Epilogue | 565 |
| 567 | |
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Common terms and phrases
Amala America Ananda Ashrama Angeles asked Basanta Belur Math Bibhu Charan blessing Boston Centre brother Calcutta California Charushila Christian Cloister Cohasset Concorde Crescenta devotion disciples dream faith feel felt fire friends Gayatri Devi Georgina Jones give guru heart Hindu holy ideal India inner Katherine Sherwood La Crescenta later lectures letter living Madras Mary Lacy meditation mind Miss Sherwood monks morning never night Parama peace Prabhavananda prayer Queensberry Street Ramakrishna Math Ramakrishna Mission Ranu realize religion returned sannyasin shrine Sister Achala Sister Daya Sister Devamata Sister Nivedita Sister Satya Prana Sister Seva soul speak spiritual Sri Ramakrishna stay Sumita Sunday Suresh Swami Abhedananda Swami Brahmananda Swami Paramananda Swami Prabhavananda Swami Ramakrishnananda Swami Vivekananda Swamiji teacher teaching temple things thought tion told took Vedanta Centre weeks women wrote York Vedanta Society young swami
Popular passages
Page 28 - Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not right ? Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre...