(14th-century Japanese classic by Yoshida Kenkō, translated by Meredith McKinnney, Penguin Books, 2013; obviously, the "best" refers simply to my favorite passages. If sorely tempted, I might say a thing or two about some, or not.)
#19 ... In the thick darkness of New Year's Eve, people light pine torches and rush about, so fast that their feet virtually skim the ground, making an extraordinary racket for some reason, and knocking on everyone's doors until late at night--but then at last around dawn all grows quiet, and you savour the touching moment of saying farewell to the old year. I was moved to find that in the East they still perform the ritual for dead souls on the night when the dead are said to return, although these days this has ceased to be done in the capital.
And so, watching the new year dawn in the sky, you are stirred by a sense of utter newness, although the sky looks no different from yesterday's. It is also touching to see the happy sight of new year pines gaily decorating the houses all along the main streets.
#20 A certain recluse monk once remarked, 'I have relinquished all that ties me to the world, but the one thing that still haunts me is the beauty of the sky.' I can quite see why he would feel this.
#21 ... Then there is Xi Kang, who wrote how, roving among mountain and stream, his heart delighted to see the fish and birds. Nothing provides such balm for the heart as wandering somewhere far from the world of men, in a place of pure water and fresh leaf.
#26 How mutable the flower of the human heart, a fluttering blossom gone before the breeze's touch--so we recall the bygone years when the heart of another was our close companion, each dear word that stirred us then still unforgotten; and yet, it is the way of things that the beloved should move into worlds beyond our own, a parting far sadder than from the dead ...
#43 One day at the close of spring, when the air is soft and exquisite, you happen upon the house of someone who is evidently of some distinction. The place is large, with an ancient grove of trees, and cherry blossoms drift down in the garden. Unable simply to pass by, you slip into the grounds. The lattice shutters along the southern wall are all lowered, lending it a forlorn air, but you peep in through a torn blind at a half-open door in the eastern wall, and see a handsome youth of around twenty sitting there, relaxed but casually elegant, intent on a book that lies spread on the desk before him.
You long to ask someone who he might have been.
#44 From a rough-woven bamboo door a very young man sets forth, tellingly clothed in glowing courtly hunting costume of a colour made indeterminate by moonlight, and deep violet gathered trousers ...
From the wild and untrimmed 'rough autumn fields' [a poetic reference, my note] of the garden, heavy with dripping dew and shrill with the plaint of insects, comes the murmur of a garden stream, while the clouds seems to scud more rapidly across the sky than in the city, the moon slipping in and out unpredictably among them.
#45 Kinyo no Nii had an elder brother called Abbot Ryōgaku, who was very hot-tempered.
A large hackberry tree grew alongside his hut, so people called him 'the Hackberry Priest'. Offended by this, he cut the tree down. The stump was left, so he was then called 'the Stump Priest'. This made him angrier still, and he dug the stump out, leaving a large hole that filled with water. So then everyone called him 'the Ditch Priest'.
#49 It may be only when unexpected illness has overtaken you and you are soon to leave this world that you become aware for the first time of past error. By 'error' I mean, quite simply, taking your time over what should be accomplished swiftly, and rushing into what should be dealt with slowly. Regret fills you, but there is no point in repenting now.
#56 ... One can judge a man's refinement by whether he restrains his enthusiasm even when talking about interesting things, or laughs a great deal over the most boring story.
#57 It is most unfortunate to hear someone relating a tale of the circumstances of some poem, when the poem itself is bad--no one with the slightest understanding of poetry would consider such a poem worthy of discussion.
#59 ... In general, I find that reasonably sensitive and intelligent people will pass their whole life without taking the step they know they should.
#82 ... In all things, perfect regularity is tasteless. Something left not quite finished is very appealing, a gesture towards the future.
#155 ... Summer doesn't come once spring is done, nor autumn arrive at the end of summer. Spring begins early to hold summer's intimations, while hints of autumn already come and go within summer, and no sooner is autumn here than winter's cold begins. The tenth month, winter's start, has a spring-like warmth that greens the plants and swells the buds on the plum. The leaves of trees, too, do not fall before the new shoots begin. They fall unable to withstand the pressure from beneath, where the young leaves are already forming. The tree is prepared and waiting from within ...
#109 A man famed for his tree-climbing skills once directed another to climb a tall tree and cut branches. While the fellow was precariously balanced aloft, the tree-climber watched without a word, but when he was descending and had reached the height of the eaves the expert called to him, 'Careful how you go! Take care coming down.'
'Why do you say that? He's so far down now that he could leap to the ground from there,' I said.
'Just so,' replied the tree climber. 'While he's up there among the treacherous branches I need not say a word--his fear is enough to guide him. It's in the easy places that mistakes will always occur.'
#137 Should we look at the spring blossoms only in full flower, or the moon only when cloudless and clear? To long for the moon with the rain before you, or to lie curtained in your room while the spring passes unseen [My note: a poetic reference], is yet more poignant and deeply moving ...
#139 ... It is very hard to feel fond of other plants--rare ones, or those with off-putting Chinesey names or unfamiliar flowers. Generally speaking, the rare and strange are things that please the lower type. It is best not to have them.
#142 An alarming-looking ruffian from the eastern provinces once turned to the man beside him and asked if he had any children. 'Not one,' the man replied.
'Well then,' said the Easterner, 'you'll not know what true depth of feeling is. It frightens me to think of a man unacquainted with tenderness ....'
... Rather than seizing thieves and punishing their crimes, it would be better to make the world a place where people did not go hungry or cold.
#143 When someone reports that a man has died a fine death, one would be impressed enough with the modest statement that he died peacefully and without distress--but fools will go on to add details .... Enough that the man himself dies without error--a death should not be judged by what others may have witnessed. [My note: Knowing how to die, or the proper way of dying is not something we habitually ponder in the present day. On the contrary, our whole lives are constructed upon the assumption that we are somehow, yes, yes, undoubtedly, immortal.]
#150 People who are learning an art generally claim that it is best not to inadvertently let others know about your attempts until you are accomplished. The way to really impress is to polish your craft in secret before making it public. But someone who says such things will never acquire any art.
A person who mingles with skilled practitioners while he himself is still inexpert, and isn't ashamed of their ridicule and laughter but calmly and devotedly perseveres in his practice even if he has no special gift, will continue to progress and not grow lax with the passing years, and will finally outdo the man of talent who lacks dedication ...
#107 ... So just how splendid are these women who provoke such humiliations in a man? Well, in fact, all women are by nature perverse. Deeply self-centred, thoroughly avaricious, unreasoning, their hearts can slip in an instant into error. They are clever with words, but will refuse to answer when asked something quite innocuous--yet where you imagine they would be carefully discreet, they will come out with astonishing revelations quite unsolicited. You would think they were even more adept than men at calculating and dissembling, but they're quite unconcerned by being later shown up.
It is the way of women to be devious and foolish. How pitiful we men are, to submit ourselves to such creatures and attempt to impress them. [My note: Ah, bless your heart.]
#151 Somebody has remarked that if you have not become adept at an art by the time you are fifty, you should give up. You do not have the time left to make further efforts worthwhile. [My note: Here, the counterargument that one desperately awaits never arrives :)]
#157 To take up the brush is to write, to take up an instrument is to feel the urge to make it sing. A sake cup in the hand provokes the thought of sake, while a dice in your palm will prompt ideas of gambling. Contact will always trigger the associated urge. Never for a moment indulge in wrongful pastimes ...
Even if you lack all faith, simply to seat yourself before an image, hold a rosary and take up a sutra book is to perform a virtuous act, however perfunctory; even seated on your meditation chair with distracted mind, you will sink into meditation before you know it.
Phenomena and their essence are intrinsically one. If outward actions conform, inner realization will naturally follow. [My note: That's why every gesture needs to be performed with intent, each time, every day--every repetition should be treated as something unique as if it were happening for the first time, and the last time.]
#171 ... In all things, do not seek for distant advantage. Simply maintain correctly what is close to hand.
#190 ... No matter who the woman may be, you would grow to hate her if you lived with her and saw her day in day out, and the woman must become dissatisfied too. But if you lived separately and sometimes visited her, your feelings for each other would surely remain unchanged through the years. It keeps the relationship fresh to just drop in from time to time on impulse and spend the night. [My note: Couldn't agree more. This alternative model is definitely in harmony with human nature, while the standard is not.]
#206 ... It is sometimes said that if you see something sinister and choose to treat it as normal, you will thereby avert whatever it portended.
#232 As a rule, people should display no learning or art.
[My note: A fantastic finale for the compilation. Here, kindly picture to yourselves a drawing of the Cheshire Cat who already disappeared, but its broad grin lingers. I'm too lazy to make one.]