Best 101 quotes of Matsuo Basho on MyQuotes

All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.

Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.

An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.

April's air stirs in Willow-leaves...a butterfly Floats and balances

Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.

A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.

At the ancient pond the frog plunges into the sound of water

Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice

Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate

Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.

Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.

Breaking the silence Of an ancient pond, A frog jumped into water - A deep resonance.

Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.

Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.

Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.

Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.

Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.

Do not resemble me-Never be like a musk melon Cut in two identical halves.

Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.

Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon

First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.

Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud

For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.

Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!

From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.

Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.

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.

Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.

He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.

How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.

How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers

I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.

I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.

If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling

In this poor body, composed of one hundred bones and nine openings, is something called spirit, a flimsy curtain swept this way and that by the slightest breeze. It is spirit, such as it is, which led me to poetry, at first little more than a pastime, then the full business of my life. There have been times when my spirit, so dejected, almost gave up the quest, other times when it was proud, triumphant. So it has been from the very start, never finding peace with itself, always doubting the worth of what it makes.

Just washed, How chill The white leeks!

Learn about a pine tree from a pine tree, and about a bamboo plant from a bamboo plant.

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.

Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music

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.

No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.

Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count -- / Festival of the Souls.

Now the swinging bridge Is quieted with creepers ... Like our tendrilled life.

O cricket from your cherry cry No one would ever guess How quickly you must die.

Old dark sleepy pool... Quick unexpected frog Goes plop! Watersplash!

Old pond, leap-splash - a frog.