The master sat in the garden filling his vision with flowers. Though he found dark and gloomy days inspirational as he relaxed by the window of his cell, the many colorful petals spoke to the glory of existence. A fellow monk began to pick some of the most beautiful flowers.
"My brother," called the master. "Would you cut off the heads of children and display them in a decorative bowl?"
"What horrible words you speak, O Venerable One. What are you saying?"
"Then why are you killing these flowers? No vase is worth filling at such a terrible price."
"My brother," called the master. "Would you cut off the heads of children and display them in a decorative bowl?"
"What horrible words you speak, O Venerable One. What are you saying?"
"Then why are you killing these flowers? No vase is worth filling at such a terrible price."
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