The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.

In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends.

In the worship of Bacchus, we have sacrificed too freely.... Why not consecrate ourselves to the queen of the Camelias, and revel in the warm stream of sympathy that flows from her altar? In the liquid amber within the ivory-porcelain, the initiated may touch the sweet reticence of Confucius.

Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage.

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

Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.

It is not the accumulation of extraneous knowledge, but the realization of the self within, that constitutes true progress.