The Remains of the Day

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Now naturally, like many of us, I have a reluctance to change too much of the old ways. But there is no virtue at all in clinging as some do to tradition merely for its own sake.

one is not struck by the truth until prompted quite accidentally by some external event.

I have heard people describe the moment, when setting sail in a ship, when one finally loses sight of the land. I imagine the experience of unease mixed with exhilaration

For our generation, I believe it is accurate to say, viewed the world not as a ladder, but more as a wheel.

For we were, as I say, an idealistic generation for whom the question was not simply one of how well one practised one’s skills, but to what end one did so; each of us harboured the desire to make our own small contribution to the creation of a better world,

There was surely nothing to indicate at the time that such evidently small incidents would render whole dreams forever irredeemable.

Now it’s up to us to exercise our rights, every one of us. Some fine young lads from this village gave their lives to give us that privilege, and the way I see it, each one of us here now owes it to them to play our part. We’ve all got strong opinions here, and it’s our responsibility to get them heard.

After all, there’s no turning back the clock now. One can’t be forever dwelling on what might have been.

And at least he had the privilege of being able to say at the end of his life that he made his own mistakes.

I trusted I was doing something worthwhile. I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really – one has to ask oneself – what dignity is there in that?’

Don’t keep looking back all the time, you’re bound to get depressed.