Often Times I Have Hated

For Life And Death Are One, Even As The River And The Sea Are One.

Be Like A Flower And Turn Your Face To The Sun.

Pity The Nation Whose Statesman Is A Fox, Whose Philosopher Is A Juggler, And Whose Art Is The Art Of Patching And Mimicking. Pity The Nation That Welcomes Its New Ruler With Trumpetings, And Farewells Him With Hootings, Only To Welcome Another Ruler With Trumpetings Again. Pity The Nation Whose Sages Are Dumb With Years And Whose Strong Men Are Yet In The Cradle. Pity The Nation Divided Into Fragments, Each Fragment Deeming Itself A Nation.

No Man Can Reveal To You Aught But That Which Already Lies Half Asleep In The Dawning Of Your Knowledge. The Teacher Who Walks In The Shadow Of The Temple, Among His Followers, Gives Not Of His Wisdom But Rather Of His Faith And His Lovingness. If He Is Indeed Wise He Does Not Bid You Enter The House Of His Wisdom, But Rather Leads You To The Threshold Of Your Own Mind.

My Yearning Is My Cup, My Burning Thirst Is My Drink, And My Solitude Is My Intoxication; I Do Not And Shall Not Quench My Thirst. But In This Burning That Is Never Extinguished Is A Joy That Never Wanes.