Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.— Matsuo Basho
The most uplifting Matsuo Basho quotes that will be huge advantage for your personal development
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
Operating superficially, the mind is random in its activity and stale in its insights and images. However, with practice and experience the mind is freed from the skull, and the fresh and new can appear as though for the first time. It
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
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.
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, [sabi] is like this old figure.
Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet.
He who attains to completes ten is a master.
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.
The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good.
Those that reveal fifty to sixty percent, we never tire of.
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag; it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.
Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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.
From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
Learn about a pine tree from a pine tree, and about a bamboo plant from a bamboo plant.
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.
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings
The journey itself is my home.
Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Do not resemble me-Never be like a musk melon Cut in two identical halves.
Year's end still in straw hat and sandals
Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Old pond, leap-splash - a frog.
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.
What is important is to keep our mind high in the world of true understanding, and returning to the world of our daily experience to seek therein the truth of beauty. No matter what we may be doing at a given moment, we must not forget that is has a bearing upon our everlasting self which is poetry.