n y m p h

“Dame Folly and us


There is being; but by what name
To call it? It’s neither sleep nor waking;
It’s between them, and in man through it
Saneness borders on insanity.
He is in the fullness of his reason,
But at the same time visions, like waves,
Run against him from all sides,
Each one more rebellious and willful than the last,
As if he were given to the elemental
Bewilderment of his ancient homeland.
But sometimes, set on fi re by a dream,
He sees a light not revealed to others.”
― Yevgeny Baratynsky

“Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.”
― Anaïs Nin

“A Thousand mountains will greet my departing friend,
When the spring teas blossom again.
With such breadth and wisdom,
Serenely picking tea—
Through morning mists
Or crimson evening clouds—
His solitary journey is my envy.
We rendezvous at a remote mountain temple,
Where we enjoy tea by a clear pebble fountain.
In that silent night,
Lit only by candlelight,
I struck a marble bell—
Its chime carrying me
A hidden man
Deep into thoughts of ages past.

— "The Day I Saw Lu Yu off to Pick Tea”
― Aaron Fisher, The Way of Tea: Reflections on a Life with Tea

“He spoke about the different beauties of Spring and Autumn. 'Each has its own delight,' he said. 'On Spring nights the sky is beautifully shrouded with mist. The moon then is not too bright and its light seems to be floating away in the distance. How delightful it is at such a time to hear someone plucking gently at the strings of a lute that have been set in the key of the Fragrant Breeze! When Autumn comes the sky is still misty, but the lucent moon shines through so clearly that one feels one could pick it up in one's hands. The soughing of the wind and the hum of the insects blend in such a way that all the savours of Nature seem to have come together. At such moments the strumming of the great zither accompanied by the clear notes of a flute makes one wonder how one could ever have admired Spring. But then there is a Winter night when the sky is chill, the air bitter cold, and the piles of snow reflect in the moonlight.”
― Lady Sarashina, As I Crossed a Bridge of Dreams