There's No Peace Like The Peace Of

Everything Was Screaming: The Sea, The Wind, My Heart.

There's No Peace Like The Peace Of An Inner Courtyard On A Sunny Day.

Life Is So Beautiful That Death Has Fallen In Love With It, A Jealous, Possessive Love That Grabs At What It Can. But Life Leaps Over Oblivion Lightly, Losing Only A Thing Or Two Of No Importance, And Gloom Is But The Passing Shadow Of A Cloud.

So You Want Another Story?" Uhh... No. We Would Like To Know What Really Happened." Doesn't The Telling Of Something Always Become A Story?" Uhh... Perhaps In English. In Japanese A Story Would Have An Element Of Invention In It. We Don't Want Any Invention. We Want The 'straight Facts,' As You Say In English." Isn't Telling About Something--using Words, English Or Japanese--already Something Of An Invention? Isn't Just Looking Upon This World Already Something Of An Invention?

Even When God Seemed To Have Abandoned Me, He Was Watching. Even When He Seemed Indifferent To My Suffering, He Was Watching. And When I Was Beyond All Hope Of Saving, He Gave Me Rest. Then He Gave Me A Sign To Continue My Journey.