Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness

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.

Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.

With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.

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.

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