Leave undone whatever you hesitate to do.
A certain recluse, I know not who, once said that no bonds attached him to this life, and the only thing he would regret leaving was the sky.
Love. Its roots are deep. Its source unknowable.
To sit alone in the lamplight with a book spread out before you, and hold intimate converse with men of unseen generations - such is a pleasure beyond compare.
Blossoms are scattered by the wind and the wind cares nothing, but the blossoms of the heart no wind can touch.
The truth is at the beginning of anything and its end are alike touching.