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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
A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
Matsuo Basho
Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Matsuo Basho
Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Matsuo Basho
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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 fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, I shall be unhappy without loneliness, shows that he made loneliness his master.
Matsuo Basho
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Matsuo Basho
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Matsuo Basho
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Matsuo Basho
A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
Matsuo Basho
I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
Matsuo Basho
He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
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
Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
Matsuo Basho
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Matsuo Basho
Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
Matsuo Basho
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
Matsuo Basho
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
Matsuo Basho