Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a stand.
There is nothing there, so where is the dust?
If there is no ruthlessness, how can there be obsession; if the green lamp is always with you, how can there be love and hate.
How long will it take for the eyes to analyze the emptiness of the world; how long will it take for the eyebrows to bend the past; how long will it take for the tears to move the boulder.
Ten miles of mortal world, thousands of miles of lonely tent, the wind does not abate, but the fate is shallow;
A bottle of strong wine ignites the heart and cannot be extinguished, but the love is deep.