A man fond of movement is like lightning flashing through the clouds, ephemeral. He flickers like a candle flame in the wind. On the other hand, a man devoted to quietude is like dead ashes or a blighted tree stump, bereft of all vitality.
Who thinks his great achievements poorShall find his vigour long endure.Of greatest fulness, deemed a void,Exhaustion never shall stem the tide.Do thou what’s straight still crooked deem;Thy greatest art still stupid seem,And eloquence a stammering scream. Constant action overcomes cold; being still overcomes heat. Purity and stillness give the correct law to all under…