The life of this transitory world is the expectation of death: to renounce life is to escape from the expectation of annihilation.

In this market every head has a different fancy: everyone winds his turban in a different fashion.

When poison becomes a habit, it ceases to injure: make your soul gradually acquainted with death.

The wave is ignorant of the true nature of the sea: how can the temporal comprehend the eternal?

Become placeless, for to change this place of water and clay is but to move from one prison to another.

The weeping of the candle is not in mourning for the moth: the dawn is at hand, and it is thinking of its own dark night.

The touchstone of false friends is the day of need: by way of proof, ask a loan from your friends.