[Japanese haiku poets found something morose in the sound, an omen of the cicada's short adult life.] In the cicada's cry, ... no sign can foretell how soon it must die.

There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; There is nothing you can think that is not the moon.

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the men of old; seek what they sought.

Seek not to follow in the footsteps of men of old; seek what they sought.

Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, [sabi] is like this old figure.