Perfection is everywhere if we only choose to recognise it.

Friends are flowers in life's garden.

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.

A garden is a friend you can visit any time.

In our common parlance we speak of the man "with no tea" in him, when he is insusceptible to the serio-comic interests of the personal drama.

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

We take refuge in pride, because we are afraid to tell the truth to ourselves.