His existence no more entered their vision than the air itself. His appearance caused no more ripple of unrest than a drop of water in the Japan Sea.
The first act of the life's tragedy begins the moment we form a parent-child relationship.
Life is an Olympic Game hosted by a group of lunatics.
Life is more hellish than hell.
Unfortunately for Him, God cannot commit suicide like we can.
She was a pleasing and wholesome sight, and he was immediately drawn to her. Her beauty was not so extraordinary, yet what he felt then was somehow more exquisite, more disturbing, than anything he felt before on seeing some attractive woman in passing. Like an adolescent with awakening passions he quickly looked away, made almost breathless by the acute happiness that came over him.
When my breast grew cold, everything was as silent as the dead in their graves. What profound silence! Not a single bird-note was heard in the sky over this grave in the hollow of the mountains.
Life is like a box of matches: it is silly to treat it seriously but it is dangerous not to treat it seriously.
Toshihito smiled. It was the sort of smile that a child who has done mischief gives his parent when he has nearly been found out. It seemed as if the wrinkles at the tip of his nose and the slack muscles at the corners of his eyes were deciding whether or not to burst into laughter.
All was done that could be done, so that there is nothing to do but accept it.
The blossoms on the pond were like perfect white pearls, and from their golden centers wafted forth a never-ending fragrance wonderful beyond description.
Like the looming snow clouds, an unspeakable fatigue and ennui lay heavily upon my mind.
Despite the smile on her face, her entire frame had from the beginning been convulsed with weeping.
Ah, what is the life of a human being—a drop of dew, a flash of lightning?
The human heart harbors two conflicting sentiments. Everyone of course sympathizes with people who suffer misfortunes. Yet when those people manage to overcome their misfortunes, we feel a certain disappointment.
A dog, constantly teased, will not readily jump at a piece of meat thrown to him once in a while.
Time and tide wait for no man. A year passed like a snowflake that falls into the river, a moment white and then gone forever.
A man sometimes devotes his life to a desire which he is not sure will ever be fulfilled. Those who laugh at this folly are, after all, no more than mere spectators of life.
You gentlemen kill with your power, with your money, and sometimes just with your words: you tell them you're doing them a favor. True, no blood flows, the man is still alive, but you've killed him all the same. I don't know whose sin is greater—yours or mine.
Am I the only one who kills people? You, you don't use your swords. You kill people with your power, with your money. Sometimes you kill them on the pretext of working for their good. It's true they don't bleed. They are in the best of health, but all the same you've killed them. It's hard to say who is a greater sinner, you or me.