Screech owls moan in the yellowing
Mulberry trees. Field mice scurry,
Preparing their holes for winter.
Midnight we cross an old battlefield.
The moonlight shines cold on white bones.
One day, while Nan-ch'uan was living in a hut in the mountains, a strange monk visited him.
Nan-ch'uan greeted him saying, “Please make yourself at home,” and then left to work in the fields.
The stranger cooked a big meal for himself, threw out the leftover food and broke the utensils, and went to sleep. When Nan-ch'uan arrived home, hungry and tired, and stretched himself out to sleep, the stranger got up and left.
Years later, Nan-ch'uan told this story to his disciples, commenting: “He was such a good monk, I miss him even now.”
The more faithfully you listen to the voice within you, the better you will hear what is sounding outside. And only she who listens can speak.
The ability to observe without evaluating is the highest form of intelligence.
If you think you're free, there's no escape possible.
Death destroys a man, but the idea of death saves him.
E. M. FORSTER
KAREN MAEZEN MILLER