WHEN CONFUCIUS WAS ROAMING ON MOUNT T’AI, HE SAW JUNG CH’I CH’I WALKING ON THE MOORS OF CH’ANG IN A ROUGH FUR COAT WITH A ROPE ROUND HIS WAIST, SINGING AS HE STRUMMED A LUTE.

’MASTER, WHAT IS THE REASON FOR YOUR JOY?’ ASKED CONFUCIUS.

’I HAVE MANY JOYS. OF THE MYRIAD THINGS WHICH HEAVEN BEGOT, MANKIND IS THE MOST NOBLE – AND I HAVE THE LUCK TO BE HUMAN. THIS IS MY FIRST JOY. PEOPLE ARE BORN WHO DO NOT LIVE A DAY OR A MONTH, WHO NEVER GET OUT OF THEIR SWADDLING CLOTHES, BUT I HAVE ALREADY LIVED TO NINETY. THIS IS MY JOY. FOR ALL MEN, POVERTY IS THE NORM AND DEATH IS THE END. ABIDING BY THE NORM, AWAITING MY END, WHAT IS THERE TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT?’

’GOOD!’ SAID CONFUCIUS ’HERE IS A MAN WHO KNOWS HOW TO CONSOLE HIMSELF.’