Beauty Is Something That Burns The Hand

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.

Is There Not A Sort Of Remorse That Precedes Sin? Was It Remorse At The Very Fact That I Existed?

I Still Have No Way To Survive But To Keep Writing One Line, One More Line, One More Line.

For A Long Time I Had Not Approached The Forbidden Fruit Called Happiness, But It Was Now Tempting Me With A Melancholy Persistence. I Felt As Though Sonoko Were An Abyss Above Which I Stood Poised.

The Mind, By Its Very Nature, Persistently Tries To Live Forever, Resisting Age And Attempting To Give Itself A Form... . When A Person Passes His Prime And His Life Begins To Lose True Vigor And Charm, His Mind Starts Functioning As If It Were Another Form Of Life; It Imitates What Life Does, Eventually Doing What Life Cannot Do.