It is no loss to mankind when one writer decides to call it a day. When a tree falls in the forest, who cares but the monkeys?
Fumes of wine shorten the long road.
If the Fleeting World is but a long dream, it does not matter whether one is young or old.
I remember, when I was young, How easily my mood changed from sad to gay. . . . But now that age comes, A moment of joy is harder and harder to get.
Autumn clouds, vague and obscure; The evening, lonely and chill. I felt the dampness on my garments, But saw no spot, and heard no sound of rain.
Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain, The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear. Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow, One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.
A little child paddles a little boat, Drifting about, and picking white lotuses. He does not know how to hide his tracks, And duckweed's opened up along his path.
The shooting of the guns, that was kind of funny, because rolling a cigarette and shooting a gun aren't like normal things for a 13-year old girl!
The strain of life is what builds our strength. If there is no strain, there will be no strength.
There were never a lot of attacks on my work. We were building more parks than were ever built in the city, building more recreation centers, fixing more streets. We had national events, the Super Bowl, the (Major League Baseball) All-Star game, Final Four. We built seven hotels. The city hadn't built a hotel in 20 or more years.
Love doesn't die; the men and women do.