Time is what matters. As time goes by, you and I will be carried inexorably into the mainstream of our period, even though weโre unaware of what it is. And later, when they say that young men in the early Taisho era thought, dressed, talked, in such and such a way, theyโll be talking about you and me. Weโll all be lumped togetherโฆ. In a few decades, people will see you and the people you despise as one and the same, a single entity.
Yukio MishimaHis conviction of having no purpose in life other than to act as a distillation of poison was part of the ego of an eighteen-year-old. He had resolved that his beautiful white hands would never be soiled or calloused. He wanted to be like a pennant, dependent on each gusting wind. The only thing that seemed valid to him was to live for the emotions--gratuitous and unstable, dying only to quicken again, dwindling and flaring without direction or purpose.
Yukio MishimaI still have no way to survive but to keep writing one line, one more line, one more line.
Yukio Mishima