This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.

YOU are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf, I am the smaller one on its upper side,' said the dewdrop to the lake.

The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.

In the mountain, stillness surges up to explore its own height. In the lake, movement stands still to contemplate its own depth.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.