In the northern darkness there is a fish named Kun. The Kun is so huge that no one knows how many thousand li it measures. It changes into a bird named Peng. The Peng's back is so huge that no one knows how many thousand li it measures. When it puts forth its effort to fly, its wings are like clouds hanging from the sky.

The cicada and the little dove laugh at the Peng, saying: 'We fly up and land in the elms and sapanwood trees. Sometimes we don't make it and fall to the ground. Why must one go up ninety thousand li and fly south?'

Small knowledge cannot reach great knowledge. Short duration cannot reach long duration. How do we know this is so? The morning mushroom knows nothing of twilight and dawn. The summer cicada knows nothing of spring and autumn.