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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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
Like
Skeleton
Windy
Skeletons
Knife
Knives
Memory
Fields
Weathered
Memories
Piercing
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
Matsuo Basho
Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.
Matsuo Basho
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Matsuo Basho
If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
Matsuo Basho
Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
Matsuo Basho
Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Matsuo Basho
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Matsuo Basho
The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
Matsuo Basho
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
Matsuo Basho
The basis of art is change in the universe.
Matsuo Basho
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Matsuo Basho
Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
Matsuo Basho
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Matsuo Basho
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
Matsuo Basho
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.
Matsuo Basho
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Matsuo Basho
No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
Matsuo Basho
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Matsuo Basho
Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
Matsuo Basho
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
Matsuo Basho