Characteristics of the sage
A young boy has not experienced the unity of man and woman, yet his manhood is strong. He feels no magical pull of attraction towards the opposite sex, seeing them at most as a strange curiosity. Likewise does the man of knowledge wonder aimlessly about, desireless, without direction, and with nothing directing him. He desires neither life nor happiness; how much less does he desire woman!
The sage is like an ocean. There may be an occasional surface storm, but deep down there is stillness. His occasional anger is only an appearance. It is like burnt string, which looks like string, but a mere puff blows it away. His attachment is like that of a child. He makes a play house, and if anyone touches it, he will jump up and cry; the next moment he himself will break it. The sun undoubtedly has dark spots, but these do not obstrcut its light. It says nothing against the ripeness of a spirit that it has a few worms.
He thinks of perfect wisdom as often as a jealous man thinks of his beautiful lover when he finds out she is spending the evening with another man. He wants perfect wisdom as much as an egotist wants to avoid pain. He spurns the world as much as the egotist craves it.
He cannot be defeated in argument, as he canvasses no position. When no ground is held, it is safe ground.
His ways are simple, his words plain. He is aware of the limits of words, so does not stretch them too far. The more elevated his thought, the less contrived his expression. He cannot be classified into harmlessness as can scholars. He drives his meaning home hard; he speaks to our souls.