A geisha has studied a man's moods and his seasons. She fusses and he blooms.

A wounded tiger is a dangerous beast.

The corridor couldn't have smelled more strongly of fish guts if we had actually been inside a fish.

She paints her face to hide her face. Her eyes are deep water. It is not for Geisha to want. It is not for geisha to feel. Geisha is an artist of the floating world. She dances, she sings. She entertains you, whatever you want. The rest is shadows, the rest is secret.

A mouse who wishes to fool the cat doesn't simply scamper out of its hole whenever it feels the slightest urge.

We all know that a winter scene, though it may be covered over one day, with even the trees dressed in shawls of snow, will be unrecognizable the following spring. Yet I never imagined such a thing could occur within our very selves.

If you aren't the woman I think you are, then this isn't the world I thought it was.