The streets are noisy and people pass by, remembering their acquaintances and not leaving them alone for young people.
We should give up laziness and stay away from all kinds of troubles; we should always be content with silence, and this person should be liberated.
The world is like a dream, the mortal world is endless, and there is constant love and affection.
Can't ask for it, can't let it go, the phoenix tree turns into a staff, walking alone on the withered road.
Wrinkled brows and heartbroken tears, waiting for the good times will be like a dream.
The devil is not a devil. If you think about the human world, how can you know what it feels like to be sad?
All dharmas arise due to causes and conditions, I say, because of causes and conditions; when causes and conditions are exhausted, they cease to exist, I say so.
On a frosty night, there is a fragrant dream, and the person next to the pillow goes to the beacon fire, blowing up a curtain of concern.
The road in the world is far and wide, but we will eventually meet again.
A red leaf falls, a withered leaf leaves, and the red leaf leaves the string. From then on, we are in a dilemma.
If someone commits a serious crime, he will deeply blame himself for it. If he repented and did not commit any crime, he could uproot the root cause.
It rained heavily and thunder shook the sky, and everyone was looking for him.
Holding a golden bow, like the full moon, looking at the world, standing still for a long time.
In my original origin, with the mind of reciting the name of the Buddha, I entered the realm of unborn endurance. Now in this realm, I guide those who recite the Buddha's name and return to the pure land.
The dragon groaned with hatred, and looked back, but in the dim light.
The heart is as stubborn as a stone and cannot be sentimental; sentimentality is empty of hatred, and this hatred will never end.
All conditioned laws. Like bubbles in dreams, like dew and like electricity. This should be viewed as such.
The blue sky is vast, the white clouds are scattered, there is no smoke for a million miles, and the wild geese are flying south.
A kind of lovesickness, two places of idle sorrow, flames turn into red lotuses, this feeling disappears on its own.
It’s dusk, it’s raining at three o’clock in the morning, there’s a dense gap before leaving, and there’s a trace of bitterness about separation.
When you practice Samadhi, you are born out of worldly labor. If the lust is not eliminated, the dust will not come out.
Hate Youyou, when will you rest? Love is gentle and goes with the wind.
People separate and reunite, the moon waxes and wanes, flowers bloom and fade, and I don’t want to meet again.
Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a stand. There is no doubt about it, but it is stained with dust.
The wind and clouds are gone, and the past has disappeared. Since there is no fate, why make an oath.
The flowers are red, the spring breeze is smiling, the beauty is wearing her beauty, I don’t know who is the same.
There are tears in beads, smoke in jade, and hairpins in sparse white heads, but I was at a loss at that time.
Heroes shed tears just for the country. Thousands of miles of mountains and rivers, thousands of miles of lonely city, the hatred of destroying the country will never be forgotten.
Wherever the wind blows, hundreds of flowers fade away, but the heart is intentional, and love is not hurt.
Where the horses are walking, there is no trace of snow. It is difficult to meet each other, and it is also difficult to say goodbye.
The palace can be destroyed, people can perish, but the hatred is still there, when will it return?