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“It’s a beautiful day. In all our lives, we may not have many like this—so perfect,” said Honda, stirred by some premonition. “Are you talking about happiness?” asked Kiyoaki. “I don’t remember saying anything about happiness.” “Well, that’s all right then. I’d be much too scared to say the things you do. I don’t have that kind of courage.” “I’m convinced that the trouble with you is, you’re horribly greedy. Greedy men are apt to
seem miserable. Look, what more could you want than a day like this?”
He realized that as long as conscious desire is at work, it will permit distinctions to exist. But if one can suppress it, these distinctions dissolve and one can be as content with a skull as with anything else.
History is a record of destruction. One must always make room for the next ephemeral crystal. For history, to build and to destroy are one and the same thing.
No one should look for any other meaning in human existence.
In his heart, he always preferred the actuality of loss to the fear of it.
Once passion was set in motion according to its own laws, then it was irresistible. This was a theory that would never be accepted by modern law, which took it as self-evident that conscience and reason ruled man.
A man may be hard to persuade by rational argument while he is easily swayed by a display of passion, even if it is feigned.
Don’t be like your father.
Growing old for nothing. I’m left with a terrible emptiness. What can life offer me but bitterness?
