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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Matsuo Basho
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Matsuo Basho
Age: 50 †
Born: 1644
Born: January 1
Died: 1694
Died: November 28
Artist
Poet
Writer
Vaxjo
Matsuo Basho
Bashō
Bashô
Basho
Matsuo Bashou
Fishes
Scrawny
Cat
Haiku
Love
Backyard
Backyards
Mice
Starving
Fats
Fish
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
A flute with no holes is not a flute.
Matsuo Basho
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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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.
Matsuo Basho
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Matsuo Basho
Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
Matsuo Basho
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.
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An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Matsuo Basho
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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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.
Matsuo Basho
Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
Matsuo Basho
The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
Matsuo Basho
The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
Matsuo Basho
On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
Matsuo Basho