Zen is the game of insight, the game of discovering who you are beneath the social masks.

Any enlightenment which requires to be authenticated, certified, recognized, congratulated, is (as yet) a false, or at least incomplete one.

Nothing divides one so much as thought.

Zen is poetry; poetry is Zen.

What is essential is not the answer but the questions; the answers indeed are the death of the life that is in the questions.

We that change, hate change. And we that pass, love what abides. Ashes, darkness, dust.

We walk, and our religion is shown even to the dullest and most insensitive person in how we walk. Or to put it more accurately, living in this world means choosing, choosing to walk, and the way we choose to walk is infallibly and perfectly expressed in the walk itself. Nothing can disguise it. The walk of an ordinary man and of an enlightened man are as different as that of a snake and a giraffe.