Nothing In The Cry Of Cicadas Suggests

Year's End, All Corners Of This Floating World, Swept.

Seek Not The Paths Of The Ancients; Seek That Which The Ancients Sought.

Make The Universe Your Companion, Always Bearing In Mind The True Nature Of Things-mountains And Rivers, Trees And Grasses, And Humanity-and Enjoy The Falling Blossoms And The Scattering Leaves.

Just Washed, How Chill The White Leeks!

The Desire To Break The Silence With Constant Human Noise Is, I Believe, Precisely An Avoidance Of The Sacred Terror Of That Divine Encounter.