There is a cheap literature that speaks to us of the need of escape. It is true that when we travel we are in search of distance. But distance is not to be found. It melts away. And escape has never led anywhere. The moment a man finds that he must play the races, go the Arctic, or make war in order to feel himself alive, that man has begin to spin the strands that bind him to other men and to the world. But what wretched strands! A civilization that is really strong fills man to the brim, though he never stir. What are we worth when motionless, is the question.
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Better stop short than fill to the brim. Oversharpen the blade, and the edge will soon blunt. Amass a store of gold and jade, and no one can protect it. Claim wealth and titles, and disaster will follow. Retire when the work is done. This is the way of heaven.
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Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill. Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt. Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench. Care about other people's approval and you will be their prisoner. Do your work, then step back. The only path to serenity.
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Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill. Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt.
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Let the coming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.
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Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim.
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The heart that is to be filled to the brim with holy joy must be held still.
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If you cannot inspire a woman with love of you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; all that runs over will be yours.
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If you cannot inspire a woman with love of you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; all that runs over will be yours
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