Quotes by : Bashō Matsuo

Here is a greedy man who keeps to himselfThe beautiful pears ripe in his garden.

Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

On this roadwhere nobody else travelsautumn nightfall.

At one time I was weary of verse writing, and wanted to give it up. At another time I was determined....

If I had the knackI'd sing likeCherry flakes falling

Awakened at midnightby the sound of the water jarcracking from the ice

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

Dead my old fine hopesAnd dry my dreaming but still...Iris, blue each spring

This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.

Why so scrawny, cat?Starving for fat fish or mice...Or backyard love?