The labor into which a heart has poured its whole love--where will it have its say, to excite and inspire, and when?

But a haiku by Buson came into his mind: 'I try to forget this senile love; a chilly autumn shower.' The gloom only grew denser.

A secret, if it's kept, can be sweet and comforting, but once it leaks out it can turn on you with a vengeance.

The road was frozen. The village lay quiet under the cold sky. Komako hitched up the skirt of her kimono and tucked it into her obi. The moon shone like a blade frozen in blue ice.

Put your soul in the palm of my hand for me to look at, like a crystal jewel. I'll sketch it in words.

Does pain go away and leave no trace, then?’ ‘You sometimes even feel sentimental for it.

In the depths of the mirror the evening landscape moved by, the mirror and the reflected figures like motion pictures superimposed one on the other. The figures and the background were unrelated, and yet the figures, transparent and intangible, and the background, dim in the gathering darkness, melted into a sort of symbolic world not of this world. Particularly when a light out in the mountains shone in the center of the girl's face, Shimamura felt his chest rise at the inexpressible beauty of it.