Nothing is as bleak as the future, except the past.

I stumbled out into the courtyard to try to flee my misery, but of course we can never flee the misery that is within us.

The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.

But what I could see out of the corner of my eye made me think of two lovely bundles of silk floating along a stream. In a moment they were hovering on the walkway in front of me, where they sank down and smoothed their kimono across their knees.

You know, the men go to tea houses with the expectation that they will have a nice quiet evening and not read about it the next morning in the newspaper.

I didn't say to act dead. I said act helpless.

Of course, a sign doesn't mean anything unless you know how to interpret it.