Humorous Sayings

Lazily waving my white-feathered fan, Baring my chest in the green of the glen.

Before my bed, the moon is shining bright, I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain.

You ask for what reason I stay on the green mountain, I smile, but do not answer, my heart is at leisure. Peach blossom is carried far off by flowing water, Apart, I have heaven and earth in the human world.

When I sing, the moon dances. When I dance, my shadow dances, too. We share life's joys when sober. Drunk, each goes a separate way. Constant friends, although we wander, we'll meet again in the Milky Way.

Green hills above the northern wall, White water winding east of the city. On this spot our single act of parting, The lonely tumbleweed journeys ten thousand li.

I climb up high and look on the four seas, Heaven and earth spreading out so far. Frost blankets all the stuff of autumn, The wind blows with the great desert's cold.

What place under heaven most hurts the heart? Laolao Ting, for seeing visitors off. The spring wind knows how bitter it is to part, The willow twig will never again be green.

Foolish indeed are those who trust to fortune.

There are as many sorts of women as there are women.

Intimacy between stepchildren and stepparents is indeed proverbially difficult.

It is very easy to criticize others but far more difficult to put one's own principles into practice, and it is when one forgets this truth, lauds oneself to the skies, treats everyone else as worthless, and generally despises others, that one's own …

Well, we never expected this!' they all say. 'No one liked her. They all said she was pretentious, awkward, difficult to approach, prickly, too fond of her tales, haughty, prone to versifying, disdainful, cantankerous, and scornful. But when you meet…

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore—but was I sober when I swore?

Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence!

The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Fills the all-empty Spirit, and can transmute Base Metal into Gold, and Gold to Life.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And dwell with the Divine, shall it abide In Sin and Error while the Flesh endures, And still rebel, howe'er the Spirit chide?

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing.

How many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that Hour of thine, When, in the Tavern, thou didst set thy Seal To that dread Bond which binds thee up to mine!

Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain—This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

Earth then an endless Tabernacle drew Of Him whose coming none can tell, nor who, To fill the Bowl where now we pour the Wine, Before we too into the Dust shall strew.