Picking up is to drink; putting down is to savor. In the act of picking up and putting down, Tea warms people in its own way.

Brew a pot of tea, and without noticing, the bitterness turns to Sweetness. Gazing out the window, not to see through, but just to see things in perspective.

Turn the clamor outside into a Cup of light tea in your hand, murmuring to oneself. Whether it's a long lament or joyous song, let the tea color fade gradually, observing the world with the heart of the past.

Some teas are tasted on the tongue; some are swallowed into the belly; some permeate deep into the bones.

In clarity, ponder tranquility; in fragrance, observe change. Tasting tea is hard for the mouth but easy for the heart.

In truth, it's not about quietly tasting the tea, but rather reflecting upon oneself.

A hundred years of life is like tea smoke rising and fading; some leave behind a lingering fragrance, while others scatter with the wind.

As tranquil as tea, fleeting in a moment, how much more so when splendid like flowers.

Tea has its destiny; Teapot bears its karma; transient visitors have their agreements. All things in this world have their own beliefs and missions.

All gatherings are due to the scattering of yesterday; all partings are for the sake of finding the final resting place.

Tasting tea is also a practice.

10 years ago, tea was tea, and I was me; 10 years later, tea resembles me, and I resemble tea; later on, tea is me, and I am tea; finally, there is no tea, no self…

Tasting tea is for the sake of savoring purity, beauty, and compassion.

We age gracefully in the tranquility and moistness of tea.