All over my garden I've planted nothing but roses, fragrant and if looked at from afar-ablaze with colour like sunset clouds. I would be very happy if any one of my visiting friends should desire to pick and take some for their homes.I trust that any friend of nune carrying the roses would vanish into the distance feeling that his emotion had been rekindled.
A close friend came for a visit the other day, I know her to be a lover of flowers and plants, and for that reason I told her at her departure that she should pick a bunch of roses to decorate her boudoir. I promised that the scent ofthe roses would be wafted far, far away.
That girl friend of mine, tiptoeing into the garden in high spirits, sniffed here and smelt there, but in the end she didn't pick a single rose. I said there were so many of them tbat she could pick as many as she'd like to, I told her that I was not a florist and didn't make a living out of them. While saying so I raised the scissors for the sacrifice of the flowers, but she vehemently stopped me, crying no, no, no!
To cut such beautiful roses would hurt one, she said.With her hands clutching at my sleeves, she told me that by no means should they be cut. Roses are the smiling face of the earth, and who could be so iron hearted as to destroy a smile so exhilarating?
My mind was thoroughly boggled: the ugly earth, the humble earth,the plain earth-it is only because of the roses that it reveals an amazing and bright smile, and it is for the sake of that smile that it wins the care and pity of men.
Of late a friend of mine i_nvited me to appreciate a Tang Dynasty vase that he was fortunate enough to have bought at an auction. The vase, with its slim neck, plump body, and fine little flowers on a blue and white background, has a noble shape and a rich colouring, elegant, refined, proud, poised, and supercilious, an extreme embodiment of the prosperity of the Tang Dynasty.
I was filled with wonder to think that while everyone present was talang great care not to cause the slightest damage to the Tang treasure, it was to me nothing but an object made of clay. It had only become a piece of classic art after being baked in a china kiln.
Both the exqusiteness of the boccaro teapots made in south China, and the shockingly beautiful sculptures by Clay Sculptor Zhang of Tianjin aren't they all smiles of the earth? They are such exquisite treasures that-even if they look ugly, humble, plain, or whatever-they no doubt deserve respect and veneration.