The basis of art is change in the universe.
MATSUO BASHOFriends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, butterfly It’s late- We’ve miles to go together.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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Don’t imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
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When I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
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There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores
MATSUO BASHO -
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
MATSUO BASHO -
Year by year, the monkey’s mask reveals the monkey.
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Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
MATSUO BASHO -
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
MATSUO BASHO -
Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.
MATSUO BASHO -
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHO -
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps’ nest.
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How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers.
MATSUO BASHO -
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
MATSUO BASHO -
Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
MATSUO BASHO -
When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
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Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old – / These fields and mountains!
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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The universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
MATSUO BASHO