Throw open your window and let the scenery of clouds and sky enter your room.

Young leaves The sound of a waterfall Heard from far and near.

Lighting one candle from another - Winter night

In pale moonlight / the wisteria's scent / comes from far away.

In the spring rain, The pond and the river Have become one.

In lantern-light My yellow Chrysanthemums Lost all their color

Grasses are misty, The waters silent- A tranquil evening.

In the water bucket a melon and an eggplant nodding to each other

I came to the flowers; I slept beneath them; this was my leisure.

Calligraphy of geese against the sky- the moon seals it.

in my garden I pick a musk melon feeling like a thief

I obviously do everything to be "hard to understand" myself

Who is the wise man? He who sees what's going to be born.

Maybe it's just parenthood that puts you in a situation where you just have to develop a new attitude, I guess, about things.

It is very clear that one way to challenge insults is to submit to them.

It is an error to suppose that a man belongs to himself. No man does. He belongs to his wife, or his children, or his relations, or to his creditors, or to society in some form or other.

My mother and I, our favorite part of any baked pasta is the top, where the cheese gets crusty.

It's no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.

Ive always been a daydreamer. When the other kids were playing, I was listening to the roar at Yankee Stadium - I was always attracted to the roar of the crowd.

As a quarterback, obviously, you're going to be put in the forefront whether you like it or not, and if you're not then you're not doing your job.

The theatre is the involuntary reflex of the ideas of the crowd.