A Wounded Tiger Is A Dangerous Beast.

Geisha Is Always Called Beautiful Even If She Is Not.

If Those Sorts Of Moments Would Be The Only Pleasure Life Offered Me, I'd Be Better Off Shutting Out That One Brilliant Source Of Light To Let My Eyes Begin To Adjust To The Darkness.

Couldn't The Wrong Sort Of Living Turn Anyone Mean? I Remembered Very Well That One Day Back In Yoroido, A Boy Pushed Me Into A Thorn Bush Near The Pond. By The Time I Clawed My Way Out I Was Mad Enough To Bite Through Wood. If A Few Minutes Of Suffering Could Make Me So Angry, What Would Years Of It Do? Even Stone Can Be Worn Down With Enough Rain.

Autobiography, If There Really Is Such A Thing, Is Like Asking A Rabbit To Tell Us What He Looks Like Hopping Through The Grasses Of The Field. How Would He Know? If We Want To Hear About The Field On The Other Hand, No One Is In A Better Circumstance To Tell Us-so Long As We Keep In Mind That We Are Missing All Those Things The Rabbit Was In No Position To Observe.

The Heart Dies A Slow Death, Shedding Each Hope Like Leaves Until One Day There Are None. No Hopes. Nothing Remains.