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A flute with no holes is not a flute.

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
Flute
Flutes
Holes

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
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April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
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If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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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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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.
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The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
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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.
Matsuo Basho
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
Matsuo Basho