听墨墨,是黑的魂。黑得不能再黑,黑成了死的样子,就是墨了。文房四宝中,墨是孤独的,是笔与纸之间的桥梁,笔染了墨落到纸上,黑白之间,全是江山与光阴,也是禅机与人世,不能说,不可说,一说就破。《本草纲目》中这样细述墨:墨,乌金,辛、湿、无毒……偶然读到一句诗,用来形容墨似乎神似:能使江月白,又使江水深。墨有香,是冷香。不浮、不腻,闻起来如闻一个清冷书生的体香,但又有人世间的暖意,可亲、可怀。我小时常闻墨香。 Listen to ink, is the soul of black. Black can no longer be black, black has become dead, is the ink. Four treasures in the study, the ink is lonely, is a bridge between the pen and paper, pen stained ink fell on the paper, between black and white, all the country and the time, is also Zen and the world, can not say, can not say, one to say broken. “Compendium of Materia Medica” so detailed ink: ink, black gold, Xin, wet, non-toxic ... ... accidentally read a poem, used to describe the ink seems to be God: to make the river white, but also to the river deep. Ink is fragrant, is fragrant. Not floating, not greasy, smells scent of a somber scholar, but there is the warmth of the world, amiable, can be pregnant. I smell scent often.