The earth is not a mere fragment of dead history, a stratum upon stratum like the leaves of a book, to be studied by biologists and antiquarians chiefly, but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which precede flowers and fruit — not a fossil earth but a living earth.
Green water in the creek is clear
Moonlight on Cold Mountain is white
Silently knowing, the spirit is enlightened of itself
Contemplate emptiness, and the world grows more still.