He was in a room of the Gesshuuji, which he had thought it would be impossible to visit. The approach of death had made the visit easy, had unloosed the weight that held him in the depths of being. It was even a comfort to think, from the light repose the struggle up the hill had brought him, that Kiyoaki, struggling against illness up that same road, had been given wings to soar with by the denial that awaited him.

Living is merely the chaos of existence.

For an artist to do creative work, he needs at once physical health and some physiomental ill health. He needs both serenity and gloom.

The special quality of hell is to see everything clearly down to the last detail.

Actually the action called a kiss represented nothing more for me than some place where my spirit could seek shelter.

At no time are we ever in such complete possession of a journey, down to its last nook and cranny, as when we are busy with preparations for it. After that, there remains only the journey itself, which is nothing but the process through which we lose our ownership of it.

A man isn't tiny or giant enough to defeat anything.