Akashi Quotes

I tried thinking of time as a book,' Akashi said as she looked up into the sky. 'The reason it seems to flow from past to future is that that’s the only way we can experience it. For example, if there were a book here, we wouldn’t be able to grasp all its content at once. All we can do is turn the pages and read them one at a time. But the content itself is already inside the book.

I believe Akashi-kun is the kind of leader very few people could ever hope to be," Kuroko explains quietly. "He makes very difficult decisions for the good of everyone. He bears the responsibility as a leader should. He makes sacrifices and sometimes his orders are difficult to bear, but he always, always, bases his commands on what he believes will be for the best to achieve victory.

What it comes to is seriousness! Nothing comes to anything unless you’re serious about it. Man, that’s the only things I dig … serious people doing serious things … otherwise, there’s not much to it.

In the bottom right is the grilled fish of the day--- in this case, teriyaki yellowtail. Top left is a selection of sashimi and pickled dishes.: Akashi sea bream, Kishu tuna, and flash-grilled Karatsu abalone. Seared Miyajima conger eel, served with pickled cucumber and myoga ginger. And in the bottom left is the matsutake rice--- the mushrooms are from Shinshu, and wonderfully fragrant. I'll bring some soup over shortly. In the meantime, enjoy!' Nagare bowed and turned back to the kitchen. 'Let's tuck in,' said Tae, joining her hands together in appreciation before reaching for her chopsticks. 'It's delicious,' said Nobuko, who had already reached into the bento and sampled the sea bream. 'The sashimi looks wonderful, but these appetizers are simply exquisite. Let's see... rolled barracuda sushi, dash-maki omelette, and those look like quail tsukume balls. And this simmered octopus--- it just melts on your tongue!

Starting from the top left: thinly sliced Akashi sea bream sashimi, with a prickly ash bud and miso dressing-- to be enjoyed with the ponzu dipping sauce. Miso-glazed Kamo aubergine. Maizuru cockles sandwiched between slices of myoga ginger. Gizzard shad marinated in sweet vinegar, served in a miniature sushi roll. Fried matsutake, conger eel grilled two ways, Manganji sweet pepper tempura, abalone pickled in Kyoto-style sweet white miso and then grilled. Fish paste noodles, Kurama-style local chicken, smoked mackerel with a pine nut stuffing. Fresh soy milk curd and vegetables pickled with red perilla.

The grilled dish is miso-marinated pomfret, and the small bowls are simmered Horikawa burdock with Akashi octopus, Shogoin turnip, and Donko shiitake mushrooms. Those small fish wrapped in perilla leaves are moroko, stewed in a sweet soy and mirin sauce. The deep-fried dishes are winter mackerel, done Tatsuta-age style by marinating it first, and ebi-imo taro, fried straight-up. Wrapped around the green negi onion is roast duck, around the thicker, white negi is Kurobuta pork. Try dipping those in the wasabi or the mustard. As for the steamed rice with Seko crab, that'll taste best with these mitsuba leaves sprinkled on top.

Yet farther away, upon the beach at Akashi, My thoughts of a distant city, and of you. “I am still half dazed, which fact will I fear be too apparent in the confusion and disorder of this letter.

Other girls are scary. I’m really bad at figuring out what they’re thinking. So— the scariest thing is when I really start to care about another girl.

In the same year, Musashi adopted another son, but this time it was a blood relative. Iori was the second son of Tahara Hisamitsu, Musashi’s older brother by four years, and he was retained to serve the Akashi daimyō, Ogasawara Tadazane. With his newly adopted son gainfully employed, Musashi became a “guest” of Tadazane and moved to Akashi. Iori was clearly a gifted young man, and five years later, at the age of twenty, was promoted to the distinguished position of “elder” of the domain. As a guest in the Honda house in Himeji and then the Ogasawara house, Musashi cultivated his artistic expression. He started studying Zen, painting, sculpture and even landscape design, and fraternized with distinguished artists and scholars such as Hayashi Razan. He had a free hand to do as he liked, and he liked to be creative. Having just emerged from an era of incessant warfare, proficiency in the more refined arts had become once again a desirable attribute in high society. It was during this period that Musashi realized how the various arts had much in common in terms of the search for perfection. He understood that the arts and occupations were “Ways” in their own right, by no means inferior to the Way of the warrior. This attitude differs from writings by other warriors, which are typically underpinned by hints of exclusivity, even arrogance, toward those not in “Club Samurai.” That said, the ideal of bunbu ryōdō (the two ways of brush and sword in accord) had long been a mainstay of samurai culture. Samurai literature from the fourteenth century onwards exhibits a concern for balancing martial aptitude with the refinement in the genteel arts and civility; namely an equilibrium between bu (martial) and bun (letters or the arts). For example, Shiba Yoshimasa’s Chikubasho (1383) admonishes the ruling class to pay attention to matters of propriety, self-cultivation, and attention to detail. “If a man has attained ability in the arts, it is possible to ascertain the depth of his mind, and the demeanor of his clan can be ascertained. In this world, honour and reputation are valued above all else. Thus, a man is able to accrue standing in society by virtue of competence in the arts and so should try to excel in them too, regardless of whether he has ability or not… It goes without saying that a man should be dexterous in military pursuits using the bow and arrow…” This was easier said than done in times of constant social turmoil and the chaos of war, but is exactly what Musashi turned his attention to as he entered the twilight years of his life. His pursuit for perfection in both military arts and other artistic Ways is perhaps why he is so revered to this day.

What does a sub have to do with cancer? This book—Prayers and Po-Boys: A Cancer Survivor's Journey through Chemotherapy and Beyond by Larry Singleton—【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】was yet another that my instinct “told” me to choose from a “lineup.” I went a step further and decided to include it in my Goodreads blog. This time, it wasn’t the cover that piqued my curiosity, even though I found myself trying to make out what looked like a photo of… was that a sandwich or a submarine? Whichever it was, I wondered: what did a sub have to do with cancer? The format I chose was an ebook, so with the cover on a thumbnail, I couldn’t know for sure【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. It was the visual disconnect, or rather, the inappropriateness of the image vis-a-vis the topic of the book that prompted my selection. It didn’t help that the cover looked like a movie poster for a comedy. Ah, maybe it’s a satire【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. As I perused the pages, it became apparent that the cover visual was apropos after all. My earlier misgivings about the image was influenced by what I assumed the term “po-boy” was. I thought it was a diminutive for “poor boys.” In a different context, I was correct. However, the po-boy Larry Singleton, the author, referred to was a specialty sandwich that originated from Louisiana during the Great Depression—1929, to be exact. The filling of the traditional kind was roast beef, but could also be ham or fried seafood. This was encased in French bread with its fluffy interior and crispy crust—a byproduct of New Orleans’ low humidity level. Apparently, there was a union strike that year and ex-streetcar conductors, who owned a local sandwich store, served the striking union workers subs. Those were the original po-boys【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. A slice of history. Wow! Although that came from my own research and not from the book. So that’s one observation I had initially. It would have been better if the author defined the po-boy somewhere: possibly in the intro, chapter one, or a glossary. Not everyone is from New Orleans and would instantly know what it is, regardless of the screaming visual in front of the book. Either that, or it was a tactic by the author to reel in unsuspecting readers. Hook them until the reveal. The latter may well be the truth—a testament to the charming personality of the author, who came across as a Miss Marple/Angela Lansbury-type. (Minus the sleuth background【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】.) A delightful aspect of this book is the author’s propensity for funny quips and comebacks. I think his sense of humor was the main reason 【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】(apart from faith and gastronomy he was able to survive his ordeal so well. For instance, when the chaplain remarked that he didn’t see many people eat during a chemo session after seeing the author munch on a sandwich, Larry explained, “I’m trying to be the exception to that rule【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】.

Bill Hearn's Blog: Knight of the Flip-Phone - A Ukraine Carol +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. And when the same guy asked one day why Larry wasn’t clutching a po-boy while receiving a chemo infusion, the author replied, “I go off the reservation sometimes, but I always come back.” The author spoke of dark clouds too. I expected those. One harked back to Room 5, the venue of the dreaded chemotherapy session. It was the equivalent of my Room 101, a metaphor for my psychological torment, which I discussed in my techno-thriller, The Invisible Cyber Bully: What it's like to be watched 24/7. It was a reference to the torture chamber in George Orwell’s dystopian novel, 1984. Orwell’s version was a red zone where the antagonists subjected dissidents to their worst phobias and nightmares to break their resolve until they could no longer think for themselves, paving the way for the government to control their minds. In a way, cancer patients going into Room 5 to receive their chemo infusion was like being sent to Room 101 to be tortured. There was a chapter where the chemo room held a different number, but for the most part, it remained the same throughout the book. It was in chapter two that the reason for the cover image became apparent. (Or at least, during the first mention of the word “po-boy.”) I’ve decided to hold off on that reveal, so the next readers could discover it for themselves【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. My second observation—and this is the peeve that knocked down a star from my rating: the author did not sufficiently portray his suffering as a cancer patient. Sure, he was a survivor and one of the fortunate folks who experienced the least amount of symptoms from the disease and its nasty treatment modality. He was also spared the agony of extreme nausea that typically prevented patients undergoing chemotherapy from eating. However, what (I assume) cancer patients would have expected from Larry’s book is the conveyance of the darkest hours of his suffering… sort of like a testament with which they could relate【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. Also, there were a lot of unnecessary conversations. Like the hellos and good mornings exchanged with the staff. It was a waste of literary real estate+1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. . One instance would have been enough. What would have given this book more oomph was if Larry revealed the meatier parts of those heart-to-hearts+1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. . He said that these people (and many others) had helped him a lot during his ordeal, yet he only conveyed the mundane pleasantries. I thought he would be detailing his in-depth, soul-wrenching conversations with them, but there was none of the sort—not even the ones he had with Chaplain Peavy, the hospital pastor.