Chuang Tzu 1.1

In the Northern Ocean there is a fish, the name of which is Khwan—I do not know how many lì in size. It changes into a bird with the name of Phang, the back of which is also—I do not know how many lì in extent. 

When this bird rouses itself and flies, its wings are like clouds all round the sky. When the sea is moved so as to bear it along, it prepares to remove to the Southern Ocean. The Southern Ocean is the Pool of Heaven.

There is the book called Khì Hsieh—a record of marvels. We have in it these words: "When the Phang is removing to the Southern Ocean it flaps its wings on the water for 3000 lì. Then it ascends on a whirlwind 90,000 lì, and it rests only at the end of six months." 

But similar to this is the movement of the breezes which we call the horses of the fields, of the dust which quivers in the sunbeams, and of living things as they are blown against one another by the air. 

Is its azure the proper color of the sky? Or is it occasioned by its distance and illimitable extent? 

If one were looking down from above, the very same appearance would just meet his view.

—all of these passages are taken from the translation of Chuang Tzu by James Legge (1891). The original romanization has been retained.