我的藏書都像是我的朋友，而且是密友，我雖然對它們并不是每一本都認識，它們中的每一本卻都認識我。我每一走進我的書齋，書籍們立即活躍起來，我仿佛能聽到它們向我問好的聲音，我仿佛能看到它們向我招手的情景，倘若有人問我，書籍的嘴在什么地方？而手又在什么地方呢？我只能說：“你的根器太淺，努力修持吧。有朝一日，你會明白的。”
我兀坐在書城中，忘記了塵世的一切不愉快的事情，怡然自得。以世界之廣，宇宙之大，此時卻仿佛只有我和我的書友存在。窗外粼粼碧水，絲絲垂柳，陽光照在玉蘭花的肥大的綠葉子上，這都是我平常最喜愛的東西，現在也都視而不見了。連平常我喜歡聽的鳥鳴聲“光棍兒好過”，也聽而不聞了。
All I can say is, “You are not gifted with sufficient sensitivity. Keep cultivating and you will attain enlightenment someday.”
As I sit still in my study, I feel pleased and contented with all the earthly unhappiness out of my mind. It seems as if only my book friends and I exist in this wide world and boundless universe. Outside the window, the rippling green pond, the weeping willows, the glint of sunshine from the big magnolia leaves— which are the things I like the most in ordinary days— are invisible to me now. Even my favorite chirps sounding like “good to be a bachelor” are nothing to me.
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