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The basis of art is change in the universe.

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
Bases
Universe
Art
Change
Basis

More quotes by Matsuo Basho

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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Matsuo Basho
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Matsuo Basho
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Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Matsuo Basho
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
Matsuo Basho
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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
Matsuo Basho
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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
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For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Matsuo Basho
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The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.
Matsuo Basho
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I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
Matsuo Basho
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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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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Matsuo Basho
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Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings
Matsuo Basho
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
Matsuo Basho
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the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.
Matsuo Basho
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Matsuo Basho
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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
Matsuo Basho
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Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Matsuo Basho
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
Matsuo Basho
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
Matsuo Basho
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho