When someone who's starved of love is shown something that looks like sincere affection, is it any wonder that she jumps at it and clings to it?
Your powers of observation are formidable," Michael says and Darien giggles behind one perfectly manicured hand, like some sort of preppie geisha.
Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.
Perhaps it seems odd that a casual meeting on the street could have brought about such change. But sometimes life is like that isn't it
The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.
If he couldn't forgive you for what you'd done, it was clear to me he was never truly your destiny.
Sometimes we get through adversity only by imagining what the world might be like if our dreams should ever come true.
After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.
And when I raised myself to look at the man who’d spoken, I had a feeling of leaving my misery behind me there on the stone wall.
Can't you see? Every step I have taken, since I was that child on the bridge, has been to bring myself closer to you.
Sometimes," he sighed, "I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see.
Finally the homeless eel marked its territory, I suppose, and the Doctor lay heavily upon me, moist with sweat.
It’s less a matter of looking the other way than of closing our eyes to what we can’t stop from happening.
I have been presented with roles with demand not just a physical ability but mental disciplines as well. 'Memoirs of a Geisha' was not so much about physical exertion... it was much more graceful and contained than that.
Flowers that grow where old ones have withered serve to remind us that death will one day come to us all.
At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.
Even now that he is gone I have him still, in the richness of my memories. I've lived my life again just telling it to you.
What I really wanted to know, though, was what it was like to be a geisha? Where do you sleep? What do you eat? How do you have your hair done?
trees [-] Inside their wooden samurai armor they are geisha beauties, each one a ‘person-of-the-arts,’ limbs dancing, arranging flowers, carrying the wind’s music, the calligraphy of their roots pure poetry, rhyming earth and berth.
And then I became aware of all the magnificent silk wrapped around my body, and had the feeling I might drown in beauty. At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.
We lead our lives like water flowing down a hill, going more or less in one direction until we splash into something that forces us to find a new course.
