Don’t put the cart before the horse.

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What a road the Cold Mountain road!

Not a sign of horse or cart.

Winding gorges, tricky to trace.

Massive cliffs, who knows how high?

Where the thousand grasses drip with dew,

Where the pine trees hum in the wind.

Now the path’s lost, now it’s time

For body to ask shadow: ‘Which way home?’

Words from Cold Mountain

Han-shan

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