A garden is a friend you can visit any time.

Tea with us became more than an idealisation of the form of drinking; it is a religion of the art of life. The beverage grew to be an excuse for the worship of purity and refinement, a sacred function at which the host and guest joined to produce for that occasion the utmost beatitude of the mundane.

Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage.

True beauty could be discovered only by one who mentally complete the incomplete.

Cares melt when you kneel in your garden.

Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.

Translation is always a treason, and as a Ming author observes, can at its best be only the reverse side of a brocade- all the threads are there, but not the subtlety of colour or design.