如淨和尚語錄 2.19

2.19

Ascending the hall to thank the monastic officers for the meal and the head monk for wielding the whisk: "An iron sour-pastry, a vajra ring: choking the throat, tearing off the nostrils. Tiantong has his footing; patch-robed monks have no doorway to beg for their lives. But tell me, how is it? Capable of acting as descendants of Gautama."