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

Fain would we remain barbarians, if our claim to civilization were to be based on the gruesome glory of war.

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.

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.

Perfection is everywhere if we only choose to recognise it.

Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage.

Friends are flowers in life's garden.