Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones

So With The Stretch Of The White Road Before Me, Shining Snow Crystals Rainbowed By The Sun, Fields That Are White, Stained With Long, Cool, Blue Shadows, Strong With The Strength Of My Horse As We Run. Joy In The Touch Of The Wind And The Sunlight! Joy! With The Vigorous Earth I Am One.

Happiness, To Some, Is Elation; To Others It Is Mere Stagnation.

Art Is Like Politics. Any Theory Carried Too Far Ends In Sterility, And Freshness Is Only Gained By Following Some Other Line.

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.

Happiness, To Some, Elation; Is, To Others, Mere Stagnation.