“Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.”

Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.

Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.

The universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.

The moon is brighter since the barn burned.

Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.

Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps’ nest.

Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers’ imperial dreams.

Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.

Learn the rules, and then forget them.

Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.

This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice.

Old pond, leap-splash – a frog.

No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.

A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.

The fruit of your own hard work is the sweetest.

Let your thoughts be related to what to want in life. They are the seeds, and your dream is the fruit.

Virtuous persons and fruit-laden trees bow, but fools and dry sticks break because they do not bend.

This world is a bitter tree, it has only two sweet nectar like fruits – one is soft voice and the other is company of gentlemen.

Poverty, disease, sorrow, imprisonment and other evils are the fruits borne by the tree of one’s own sins.

Whores don’t live in company of poor men, citizens never support a weak company and birds don’t build nests on a tree that doesn’t bear fruits.

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.

God is the Seed; The Universe is the Tree, Impulses and passions are the branches, Intelligence is the flower, Pure Consciousness is the fruit, Love is the sweetness in the fruit.