Geisha because when I was living in Japan, I met a fellow whose mother was a geisha, and I thought that was kind of fascinating and ended up reading about the subject just about the same time I was getting interested in writing fiction.

Here's the thing: this eel spends its entire life trying to find a home, and what do you think women have inside them? Caves, where the eels like to live...when they find a cave they like, the wriggle around inside it for a while to be sure that...well, to be sure it's a nice cave, I suppose. And when they've made up their minds that it's comfortable, they mark the cave as their territory...by spitting.

Watch for the thing that will show itself to you. Because that thing, when you find it, will be your future.

Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.

Friendship is a precious thing, Sayuri. One mustn't throw it away.

His face was very heavily creased, and into each crease he had tucked some worry or other, so that it wasn't really his face any longer, but more like a tree that had nests of birds in all of the branches. He had to struggle constantly to manage it and always looked worn out from the effort.

He was like a song I'd heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.