Geisha Because When I Was Living In

From This Experience, I Understood The Danger Of Focusing Only On What Isn't There. What If I Came To The End Of My Life And Realized That I'd Spent Every Day Watching For A Man Who Would Never Come To Me? What An Unbearable Sorrow It Would Be, To Realize I'd Never Really Tasted The Things I'd Eaten, Or Seen The Places I'd Been, Because I'd Thought Of Nothing But The Chairman Even While My Life Was Drifting Away From Me. And Yet If I Drew My Thoughts Back From Him, What Life Would I Have? I Would Be Like A Dancer Who Had Practiced Since Childhood For A Performance She Would Never Give.

Autobiography, If There Really Is Such A Thing, Is Like Asking A Rabbit To Tell Us What He Looks Like Hopping Through The Grasses Of The Field. How Would He Know? If We Want To Hear About The Field On The Other Hand, No One Is In A Better Circumstance To Tell Us-so Long As We Keep In Mind That We Are Missing All Those Things The Rabbit Was In No Position To Observe.

Couldn't The Wrong Sort Of Living Turn Anyone Mean? I Remembered Very Well That One Day Back In Yoroido, A Boy Pushed Me Into A Thorn Bush Near The Pond. By The Time I Clawed My Way Out I Was Mad Enough To Bite Through Wood. If A Few Minutes Of Suffering Could Make Me So Angry, What Would Years Of It Do? Even Stone Can Be Worn Down With Enough Rain.

How Many Times Already Had I Encountered The Painful Lesson That Although We May Wish For The Barb To Be Pulled From Our Flesh, It Leaves A Welt That Doesn't Heal?

All At Once I Felt So Vain, Like A Girl Posturing For The Crowds As She Walks Along, Only To Discover The Street Is Empty.