and the silk-worms of spring will weave until they die, and every night the candles will weep their wicks away.

falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud will protect the flowers.

the mountains are high and sometimes long, but I am the only teacher who is grateful to the sun and the moon.

sneak into the night with the wind and moisten things silently.

if you climb high, you will get stronger.