I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content.
Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.
When small men begin to cast big shadows, it means that the sun is about to set.
Those who are wise won't be busy, and those who are too busy can't be wise.
There is so much to love and to admire in this life that it is an act of ingratitude not to be happy and content in this existence.
Once Confucius was walking on the mountains and he came across a woman weeping by a grave. He asked the woman what here sorrow was, and she replied, We are a family of hunters. My father was eaten by a tiger. My husband was bitten by a tiger and died. And now my only son! Why don't you move down and live in the valley? Why do you continue to live up here? asked Confucius. And the woman replied, But sir, there are no tax collectors here! Confucius added to his disciples, You see, a bad government is more to be feared than tigers.
Simplicity is the outward sign and symbol of depth of thought.
The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.
Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.
The Chinese do not draw any distinction between food and medicine.
The busy man is never wise and the wise man is never busy.
Anyone who reads a book with a sense of obligation does not understand the art of reading.
The man who has not the habit of reading is imprisoned in his immediate world.
It is important that man dreams, but it is perhaps equally important that he can laugh at his own dreams.
We should not expect people to be good, but should make it impossible for them to be bad.
Where there are too many policemen, there is no liberty. Where there are too many soldiers, there is no peace. Where there are too many lawyers, there is no justice.
The three great American vices seem to be efficiency, punctuality, and the desire for achievement and success. They are the things that make the Americans so unhappy and so nervous.
In fact,I believe the reason why the Chinese failed to develop botany and zoology is that the Chinese scholar cannot stare coldly and unemotionally at a fish without immediately thinking of how it tastes in the mouth and wanting to eat it. The reason I don't trust Chinese surgeons is that I am afraid that when a Chinese surgeon cuts up my liver in search of a gall-stone, he may forget about the stone and put my liver in a frying pan.
Sometimes it is more important to discover what one cannot do, than what one can do.
A man who has to be punctually at a certain place at five o'clock has the whole afternoon ruined for him already.
A good traveller is one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveller does not know where he came from.
So much of unhappiness, it seems to me, is due to nerves; and bad nerves are the result of having nothing to do, or doing a thing badly, unsuccessfully or incompetently. Of all the unhappy people in the world, the unhappiest are those who have not found something they want to do. True happiness comes to those who do their work well, followed by a refreshing period of rest. True happiness comes from the right amount of work for the day.
Today we are afraid of simple words like goodness and mercy and kindness. We don't believe in the good old words because we don't believe in good old values anymore. And that's why the world is sick.
If one's bowels move, one is happy, and if they don't move, one is unhappy. That is all there is to it.
Love is an immortal wound that cannot be closed up. A person loses something, a part of her soul, when she loves someone. And she goes about looking for that lost part of her soul, for she knows that otherwise she is incomplete and cannot be at rest. It is only when she is with the person she loves that she becomes complete again in herself; but the moment he leaves, she loses that part which he has taken with him and knows no rest till she has found him once more.
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