nothing escapes their aim. But you―you hardly bend your bow, or bend it only to miss the quarry that lies within your reach.
“One of these five failings is like a tumour hanging to you and impeding your progress in life. How much more all of them!”
“It is indeed as you state,” answered Pŏ Tzŭ. “But would you bid me cut these tumours away? A man may have a tumour and live. To cut it off is to die. And life with a tumour is better than death without. Besides, beauty is a natural gift; and the woman who tried to look like Hsi Shih only succeeded in frightening people out of their wits by her ugliness.[1] Now it is my misfortune to have these tumours, which make me more loathsome even than that woman. Still, I can always, so to speak, stick to my needle and my cooking-pots and strive to make my good man happy.[2] There is no occasion for me to proclaim my ugliness in the marketplace.”
“Ah, sir,” said the retainer, “now I know why there are so many ugly people about, and so little beauty in the land.”
