Just Washed, How Chill The White Leeks!

Spring Rain Leaking Through The Roof Dripping From The Wasps' Nest.

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.

The Basis Of Art Is Change In The Universe.

The Universe And Its Beings Are A Complementarity Of Empty Infinity, Intimate Interrelationships, And Total Uniqueness Of Each And Every Being.

There Is Nothing You Can See That Is Not A Flower; There Is Nothing You Can Think That Is Not The Moon.