The Book of Tea

by Kakuzō Okakura

It is not that we should disregard the creations of the past, but that we should try to assimilate them into our consciousness.

So warming to hear my thoughts of art being formed into words.

The masterpiece is a symphony played upon our finest feelings.

Another of my opinion rendered into beautiful words.

Those of us who know not the secret of properly regulating our own existence on this tumultuous sea of foolish troubles which we call life are constantly in a state of misery while vainly trying to appear happy and contented. We stagger in the attempt to keep our moral equilibrium, and see forerunners of the tempest in every cloud that floats on the horizon. Yet there is joy and beauty in the roll of billows as they sweep outward toward eternity. Why not enter into their spirit, or, like Liehtse, ride upon the hurricane itself?

Shivers on my spine from such words this fine...