Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
MATSUO BASHOWhen I speak My lips feel cold – The autumn wind.
More Matsuo Basho Quotes
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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
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 -
The basis of art is change in the universe.
MATSUO BASHO -
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
MATSUO BASHO -
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
MATSUO BASHO -
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
MATSUO BASHO -
Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.
MATSUO BASHO -
An autumn night – don’t think your life didn’t matter.
MATSUO BASHO -
Learn the rules, and then forget them.
MATSUO BASHO -
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
MATSUO BASHO -
Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
MATSUO BASHO -
Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water – A deep resonance.
MATSUO BASHO -
At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water.
MATSUO BASHO -
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count — / Festival of the Souls.
MATSUO BASHO