Sir Reginald Fleming Johnston,
From Peking to Mandalay
“ If every monastery were to crumble into dust, if the very memory of Buddhism were to be swept utterly away from the minds of men, Omei would still remain what it was before the first Buddhist recluse had built there his lonely hermitage—it would still be a home of portent and mystery, the abode of nameless spirits of mountain and flood, the source of inspiration to poet and artist, the resort of pilgrims from many lands, each of whom—whatever his faith—would find, as he gazed from the edge of the Golden Summit into the white abyss below, a manifestation of the Glory of his own God. ”
