The world is like a great empty dream. Why should one toil away one's life?

Shade and light are different in every valley.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.

Heaven is high, Earth Wide. Bitter between them flies my sorrow.

I am asked why I live in the green mountains; I smile but reply not, for my heart is at rest. The flowing waters carry the image of the peach blossoms far, far away; there is an earth, there is a heaven, unknown to men.

To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.

To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows,We drained a hundred jugs of wine.A splendid night it was . . . .In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed,But at last drunkenness overtook us;And we laid ourselves down on the empty mountain,The earth for pillow, and the great heaven for coverlet