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.

Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?

Don't imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.

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

the universe and its beings are a complementarity of empty infinity, intimate interrelationships, and total uniqueness of each and every being.

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

There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores