The real Zen of the old Chinese masters was wu-shih, or "no fuss."

Courage is the goal of cowards.

Hurrying and delaying are alike ways of trying to resist the present.

How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself anything less than a god.

Where does my fist go when I open up my hand? Where does my lap go when I stand up?

For there is never anything but the present, and if one cannot live there, one cannot live anywhere.

To put is still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet.