All our Western thought is founded on this repulsive pretence that pain is the proper price of any good thing.
Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.
May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve.
When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me and a trembling seizes me all over.
You may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.
What cannot be said will be wept.
The thing is, the future happens. Every single day, like it or not. Sure, tomorrow is risky, frightening and in some way represents one step closer to the end. But it also brings with it the possibility of better and the chance to do something that matters.
Gratitude is the seedbed of joy.
With suicide, it's a strange thing in Japanese culture. It's acceptable. My parents would have been devastated if my attempt had been successful, but they would have somehow accepted it.
He saw in happiness the seeds of independence, and in independence the seeds of revolt.