When I Speak My Lips Feel Cold

Sitting Quietly, Doing Nothing, Spring Comes, And The Grass Grows, By Itself.

A Flute With No Holes Is Not A Flute.

Before Enlightenment, Chopping Wood And Carrying Water. After Enlightenment, Chopping Wood And Carrying Water.

Every Moment Of Life Is The Last, Every Poem Is A Death Poem.

The Moon And Sun Are Travelers Through Eternity. Even The Years Wander On. Whether Drifting Through Life On A Boat Or Climbing Toward Old Age Leading A Horse, Each Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.