"And that man and God are One," said Yen Hui. "What does that mean?"
"That man is," replied Confucius, "is from God. That God is, is also from God. That man is not God, is his nature.
Sc. that which makes him man.
The Sage quietly waits for death as the end."
Which shall unite him once again with God.
When Chuang Tzŭ was wandering in the park at Tiao-ling, he saw a strange bird which came from the south. Its wings were seven feet across. Its eyes were an inch in circumference. And it flew close past Chuang Tzŭ's head to alight in a chestnut grove.
"What manner of bird is this?" cried Chuang Tzŭ. "With strong wings it does not fly away. With large eyes it does not see."
Or it would not have flown so near.
So he picked up his skirts and strode towards it with his cross-bow, anxious to get a shot. Just then he saw a cicada enjoying itself in the shade, forgetful of all else. And he saw a mantis spring and seize it, forgetting in the act its own body, which the strange bird immediately pounced upon and made its prey. And this it was which had caused the bird to forget its own nature.