“The small wisdom is like water in a glass:clear, transparent, pure.The great wisdom is like the water in the sea:dark, mysterious, impenetrable.”

“Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.”

“You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.”

“The fish in the water is silent, the animals on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing. But man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.”

“On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby’s cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.”

“The water vessel, taken as a vessel only, raises the question, "Why does it exist at all?" Through its fitness of construction, it offers the apology for its existence. But where it is a work of beauty it has no question to answer; it has nothing to do, but to be.”

“I travelled the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market,my cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream andall the ways were well known to me. One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy inthe fields, the pastures crowded with cattle; the breast of earthheaved with the mirth of ripening rice. Suddenly there was a tremor in the air, and the sky seemed tokiss me on my forehead. My mind started up like the morning out ofmist. I forgot to follow the track. I stepped a few paces from thepath, and my familiar world appeared strange to me, like a flowerI had only known in bud. My everyday wisdom was ashamed. I went astray in the fairylandof things. It was the best luck of my life that I lost my path thatmorning, and found my eternal childhood.”