#sage

The marks of a proficient man are that he censures no one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses no one, says nothing concerning himself as being any body, or knowing any thing.

Other people are bright and confident; I alone seem dim and bewildered. Other people are clever and purposeful; I alone seem dull and clumsy.

Cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown: that is the true address of the sage.

The bird flies in the sky and leaves no footprint; the sage moves through the world leaving no trace of ego.

Do not kindle the fire of anger to burn your neighbor's roof; the wind will blow the sparks back upon your own house.

The water in the pot reflects the sun; when the pot breaks, the light returns to its universal source.

When the boat is tied to the post of worldly desires, rowing with all your might will not move it an inch forward.

He who rests in the quiet cave of the heart has reached the ultimate sanctuary of freedom.

The enlightened sage lives in the world like a dry leaf blown by the wind of destiny, internally free and unattached.

The torch of chaos and doubt is what the sage steers by.

The sage leans on the sun and moon, tucks the universe under his arm, and merges with the seamless whole.

The small man builds cages for everyone he knows. While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, keeps dropping keys all night long for the beautiful rowdy prisoners.