Today as in ancient times
Mei Yaochen in Poets’ Jade Splinters
it’s hard to write a simple poem.
To be undefeated lies with oneself;
Sunzi in The ART of War (孙子兵法)
to be victorious lies with the enemy.
A buddha is an idle person.
Bodhidharma; Bloodstream Sermon
He doesn’t run around after fortune and fame.
What good are such things in the end?
Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance.
Epicurus
Take more time, cover less ground.
Thomas Merton
American Intellectual History: A Very Short Introduction by Jennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen
The Book of Five Rings: A Classic Text on the Japanese Way of the Sword by Miyamoto Musashi
Are you the new person drawn toward me?
To begin with, take warning, I am surely far
different from what you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your
ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become
your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would
be unalloy'd satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this facade,
this smooth and tolerant manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real
ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought, O dreamer, that is
may be all maya, illusion?
老子道德经校释（简体中文版）: 中华传世珍藏古典文库 by 王弼
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.
Essential Zen by Kazuaki Tanahashi
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these
recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless,
of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself,
(for who more foolish than I, and who
more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the
objects mean, of the struggle ever
renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding
and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the
rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring --
What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and
identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you
may contribute a verse.
Inspiration enters at the border between hard work and laziness.
Lu juren in “Poets’ jade splinters” [Trans. by Barnstone and Ping in The ART Of Writing]
I will not own anything that will one day be a valuable antique.
Miyamoto musashi in “My way of walking alone” [Dokkōdō] (Trans. by Teruo machida)
A house full of gold and jade can’t be guarded.
Laozi in the DAo De jing [Ch. 9]
Writing is a struggle between presence and absence.
Lu ji in The ART of Writing [Trans. by Barnstone and ping]
The best leaders remain unknown; the next best are praised; the next best are feared, and the worst are mocked.
Laozi in dAo de Jing [Ch.17]
Tiger Riding for Beginners 