Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage.
In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends.
Friends are flowers in life's garden.
Fain would we remain barbarians, if our claim to civilization were to be based on the gruesome glory of war.
Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour; their pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy, the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as we are of the masterpiece.
Teaism is a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order.