The heart of mine is only one, it cannot be known by anybody but myself.

Find beauty not only in the thing itself but in the pattern of the shadows, the light and dark which that thing provides.

We delight in the mere sight of the delicate glow of fading rays clinging to the surface of a dusky wall, there to live out what little life remains to them.

Whenever I sit with a bowl of soup before me, listening to the murmur that penetrates like the distant song of an insect, lost in contemplation of the flavours to come, I feel as if I were being drawn into a trance.

For a woman who lived in the dark it was enough if she had a faint, white face -a full body was unnecessary.

Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty.

The heart of mine is only one, it cannot be known by anybody but myself.