Archery is...not practiced solely for hitting the target; the swordsman does not weild the sword just for the sake of outdoing his opponent; the dancer does not dance just to perform certain rhythmical movements of the body.

The hitter and the hit are no longer two opposing objects, but are one reality.

Where is the archer?

By the 'art of archery' he does not mean the abililty of the sportsman, which can be controlled, more or less, by bodily exercises, but an ability whose origin is to be sought in spiritual exercises and whose aim consists in hitting a spiritual goal.

The marksmen aims at himself.

Shooting becomes not-shooting, a shooting without bow and arrow; the teacher becomes a pupil again, the Master a beginner, the end a beginning, and the beginning perfection.

Bow and arrow are only pretext for something that could just as well happen without them.

Unless we enter into mystic experiences by direct participation, we remain outside.

His experiences, his conquests and spiritual transformations must be conquered and transformed again and again until everything "his" is annihilated.

[There is] no other way to mysticism than the way of personal experience and suffering.

Of all things the most yielding can overwhlem that which is of all things most hard.

The right are is purposeless...aimless!

Why try to anticipate in thought what only experience can teach?

Walk past everything without noticing it, as if there were only one thing in the world that is important and real.

The more one concentrates on breathing, the more the external stimuli fade into the background.

The mind or spirit is present everywhere, because it is nowhere attached to any particular place.

Out of the fullness of this presence of mind, disturbed by no ulterior motive, the artist who is released from all attachment must practice his art. Faced with a situation into which he could not leap instinctively, he would then enter again into all the relationships from which he had detached himself. Everything that he does is done before he knows it.

Demonstration, example; intuition, imitation—that is the fundamental relationship of instructor to pupil.

In the end, the pupil no longer knows which of the two—mind or hand—was responsible for the work.

Realization does not depend in the slightest degree on his good will.

Comments by Jacen on Zen in the Art of Archery: "A teacher should not complement the achievments of the student, for by doing so he will attempt to re-enact his own experiences in order to accomplish the same results, thus robbing himself of naturalness."

The Master no longer seeks, he finds.

You must act as if the goal were infinitely far off.

This then is what counts: a lightning reaction which has no further need of conscious observation. In this respect at least the pupil makes himself independent of all conscious purpose.

The more he endeavors to forget himself, the more tightly he binds himself to himself.

All is emptiness: your own self, the flashing sword, and the arms that weild it. Even the thought of emptiness is no longer there.

For the ultimate secrets of swordsmanship also lie in being released from the thought of death.