Soseki Natsume Quotes

I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than do those words which express thoughts rationally conceived. It is blood that moves the body. Words are not meant to stir the air only: they are capable of moving greater things.

You seem to be under the impression that there is a special breed of bad humans. There is no such thing as a stereotype bad man in this world. Under normal conditions, everybody is more or less good, or, at least, ordinary. But tempt them, and they may suddenly change. That is what is so frightening about men.

You see, loneliness is the price we have to pay for being born in this modern age, so full of freedom, independence, and our own egoistical selves.

Like the first whiff of burning incense, or like the taste of one's first cup of saké, there is in love that moment when all its power is felt.

To tell you the truth, I used to consider it a disgrace to be found ignorant by other people. But now, I find that I am not ashamed of knowing less than others, and I'm less inclined to force myself to read books. In short, I have grown old and decrepit.

Watch birth and death: The lotus has already Opened its flower.

I often laughed, and you often gave me a dissatisfied look, till you pressed me to unfold my past before you as if it were a roll of pictures. It was then I felt respect for you. Because you unreservedly showed me your resolution to catch something alive in my being, and to sip the warm blood running in my body, by cutting my heart. At that time, I was still living, and did not want to die. So I rejected your request, promising to satisfy you some day. Now I am going to destroy my heart myself, and pour my blood into your veins. I shall be happy if a new life can enter into your bosom, when my heart has stopped beating.

What would you do," I said, "if I pushed you into the sea?" K did not move. Without looking back, he said: "That would be pleasant. Please do.

Words are not meant to stir the air only: they are capable of moving greater things.

Sometimes when I can no longer endure the strain, I beg him to tell me what is wrong with me and help me to correct it. Then he always says that I have nothing to correct, assuring me that it is he who is at fault. And I become sadder and sadder until I weep with the desire to know my fault.

Even bigger than Japan is the inside of your head.

I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than those words which express thoughts rationally conceived

And when its difficulties intensify, you find yourself longing to leave that world and dwell in some easier one- and then, when you understand at last the difficulties will dog you wherever you may live, this is when poetry and art are born...

In fact, there is no such thing as character, something fixed and final. The real thing is something that novelists don’t know how to write about. Or, if they tried, the end result would never be a novel. Real people are strangely difficult to make sense out of. Even a god would have his hands full trying. But maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, presuming that other people are a mess just because I’m put together in such a disorderly way. If so, I should apologize.

Now that I thought about it, though, I realized that most people actually encourage you to turn bad. They seem to think that if you don't, you'll never get anywhere in the world. And then on those rare occasions when they encounter somebody who's honest and pure-hearted, they look down on him and say he's nothing but a kid, a Botchan. If that's the way it is, it would be better if they didn't have those ethics classes in elementary school and middle school where the teacher is always telling you to be honest and not lie. The schools might as well just go ahead and teach you how to tell lies, how to mistrust everybody, and how to take advantage of people. Wouldn't their students, and the world at large, be better off that way? Redshirt had laughed at me for being simpleminded. If people are going to get laughed at for being simpleminded and sincere, there's no hope. Kiyo never laughed at me for saying anything like what I said to Redshirt. She would have been deeply impressed by it. Compared to Redshirt, she's far and away the superior person.

We who are born into this age of freedom and independence and the self must undergo this loneliness. It is the price we pay for these times of ours.

I would guess that he thought and thought for at least ten years before he came up with a stupendous idea, that glory of man's inventiveness, pants.

Who are we to judge the needs of another man’s heart?

Indeed, humans are the least reliable in this world.

The average novel invariably reads like a detective's report. It is drab and tedious because it is never objective.

If he let one day pass without glancing at a single page, habit led him to feel a vague sense of decay. Therefore, in the face of most intrusions, he tried to arrange it so that he could stay in touch with the printed word. There were moments when he felt that books constituted his only legitimate province.

Even the greatest of painters cannot produce, however strenuously he exerts himself in pursuit of variety, more than 12 or 13 individual masterpieces. So it is natural that mankind should marvel at God's astonishing and singlehanded achievement in the production of people.

Until then I had floated at random, like a rootless aquatic plant, relying entirely on the opinions of others.

It is a much wiser policy to plant acre after acre of orchids and lead one's life in solitude encompassed by their sheltering stems, than to surround oneself with the hoi-polloi and so court the same pointless misanthropic disgust as befell Timon of Athens.

Nobody can be angry and write a Hokku at the same time. Likewise, if you are crying, express your tears in seventeen syllables and you feel happy. No sooner are your thoughts down on paper, than all connection between you and the pain which caused you to cry is severed, and your only feeling is one of happiness that you are a man capable of shedding tears.

Even bigger than Japan is the inside of your head. Don't ever surrender yourself- not to Japan, not to anything. You may think that what you're doing is for the sake of the nation, but let something take possession of you like that, and all you do is bring it down.

I realized that most people actually encourage you to turn bad.they seem to think that if you don’t , you will never get anywhere in the world.

When they encounter somebody who’s honest and pure-hearted, they look down on him and say he’s nothing but a kid, a botchan.

Doğa, bir mücevheri yaratana kadar kim bilir kaç yıl harcamıştır. Yine o mücevher, madencinin şansı yaver gidene dek, yıldızlar altında kaç yıl, tek başına parlamıştır?

At the same time, I began to walk about the streets discontentedly, and to look around my room with a feeling that something was lacking in my life

Admittedly, there's a certain coarseness about [businessmen]; for there's no point in even trying to be [one] unless your love for money is so absolute that you're ready to accompany it on the walk to a double suicide. For money, believe you me, is a hard mistress, and none of her lovers are let off lightly. As a matter of fact, I've just been visiting a businessman and, according to him, the only way to succeed is to practice the "triangled" technique: try to escape your obligations, annihilate your kindly feelings, and geld yourself of the sense of shame.

الواقع أن البشر هم أقل ما يمكن الاعتماد عليه في هذا العالم.

I don't even trust myself. And not trusting myself, I can hardly trust others. There is nothing that I can do, except curse my own soul.

She found a book report and read it. It was on Kokoro, a novel by Soseki Natsume, that summer’s reading assignment.

How to adjust to a world in which the climax of a scene— and sometimes the central event— is going to sleep? We’re going to have to adapt, maybe even invert our sense of priority and our assumptions about what constitutes drama, as most of us foreigners have to do when traveling to Japan.

Your brother is a sensitive person. Aesthetically, ethically, and intellectually he is in fact hypersensitive. As a result, it would seem that he was born only to torture himself. He has none of that saving dullness of intelligence which sees little difference between A and B. To him it must be either A or B. And if it is to be A, its shape, degree, and shade of color must precisely match his own conception of it; otherwise he will not accept it. Your brother, being sensitive, is all his life walking on a line he has chosen—a line as precarious as a tight rope. At the same time he impatiently demands that others also tread an equally precarious rope, without missing their footing. It would be a mistake, though, to think that this stems from selfishness. Imagine a world which could react exactly the way your brother expects; that world would undoubtedly be far more advanced than the world as it is now. Consequently, he detests the world which is—aesthetically, intellectually, and ethically—not as advanced as he is himself. That's why it's different from mere selfishness, I think.

Sōseki is an unusually intimate writer— the public world is only his concern by implication— and in Japan (again as in the England that I know) intimacy is shown not by all that you can say to someone else, but by all that you don’t need to say.

The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

I am grabbed by the scruff of the neck and pitched clean out of the room. It seems that this sudden aversion stems from human disgust with those barely visible and totally insignificant insects which I harbor. A heartless and most callous attitude! How can such inconsiderate behavior possibly be justified by the presence in my coat of one or two thousand footling fleas? The answer is, of course, that Article One of those Laws of Love (by which all humans creatures regulate their lives) specifically enjoins that «ye shall love one another for so long as it serves thine individual interest.»

In Doya-sensei's view the world was a place to work for the sake of others; in Takayanagi's view the world was a place to work for his own sake. In a world where he lived for others, Doya felt no regret that no one offered a helping hand. In a world where he lived for himself, Takayanagi felt the world that cared nothing for him was cruel. Such is the difference between one who exists for others and one who exists for himself. Such is the difference between one who leads others and one who relies on others. Such is the difference, even when both are solitary individuals. Takayanagi was not aware of these differences.

Yes, a poem, a painting, can draw the sting of troubles from a troubled world and lay in its place a blessed realm before our grateful eyes. Music and sculpture will do likewise. Yet strictly speaking, in fact, there is no need to present this world in art. You have only to conjure the world up before you, and there you will find a living poem, a fount of song. No need to commit your thoughts to paper—the heart will already sing with a sweet inner euphony. No need to stand before your easel and limn with brush and paint—the world’s vast array of forms and colors already sparkles within the inner eye. It is enough simply to be able thus to view the place we live, and to garner with the camera of the sentient heart these pure, limpid images from the midst of our sullied world. And so even if no verse ever emerges from the mute poet, even if the painter never sets brush to canvas, he is happier than the wealthiest of men, happier than any strong-armed emperor or pampered child of this vulgar world of ours—for he can view human life with an artist’s eye; he is released from the world’s illusory sufferings; he is able to come and go at ease in a realm of transcendent purity, to construct a unique universe of art, and thereby to destroy the binding fetters of self-interest and desire.

Every time I am shown to an old, dimly lit, and, I would add, impeccably clean toilet in a Nara or Kyoto temple, I am impressed with the singular virtues of Japanese architecture. The parlor may have its charms, but the Japanese toilet truly is a place of spiritual repose. It always stands apart from the main building, at the end of a corridor, in a grove fragrant with leaves and moss. No words can describe that sensation as one sits in the dim light, basking in the faint glow reflected from the shoji, lost in meditation or gazing out at the garden. The novelist Natsume Soseki counted his morning trips to the toilet a great pleasure, ‘a physiological delight’ he called it. And surely there could be no better place to savor this pleasure than a Japanese toilet where, surrounded by tranquil walls and finely grained wood, one looks out upon blue skies and green leaves.

how every character is effectively a tiny figure in a suffocating world of associations and obligations; where many an American novel might send its protagonist out into the world to make his own destiny, in Sōsuke’s Japan he cannot move for all his competing (and unmeetable) responsibilities to his aunt, his younger brother, his wife, and society itself.

Hardly anything in this life is settled. Things that happen once will go on happening. But they come back in different guises, and that's what fools us.

Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; All earth-born cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.

The sun rises. And the sun sets. And the sun rises and sets... When the red sun rises in the east and sets in the west, then I will... Will you wait for me?

Ora io sto studiando questo libro solo per l'esame, solo per guadagnarmi il pane, trattenendo rabbia e lacrime. Ricordate: sia maledetto per sempre il sistema degli esami!

Dürüstlük, dünya üzerinde bu kadar nadir bulunan bir şeyken her önünüze gelenden dürüst olmasını beklemek ahmaklık olur.

Pickles taste awful, but to broaden my experience I once tried a couple of slices of pickled radish. It‘s a strange thing but once I‘ve tried it, almost anything turns out edible.

the fact that nobody, even to this day, has given me a name indicates quite clearly how very little they have thought of me

No wonder we never see the end of war in the world. Among individuals, it is, after all, the question of superiority of the fist.

This reticence has little to do with trying to protect oneself and everything to do with trying to protect others from one’s problems, which shouldn’t be theirs; it’s one reason Japan is so confounding to foreigners, as its people faultlessly sparkle and attend to one another in in public, while often seeming passive and unconvinced of their ability to do anything decisive at home.

Me parece que por cada tipo de personaje que exista en una novela, habrá al menos una persona en el mundo justamente como él. Nosotros los humanos somos sencillamente incapaces de imaginar acciones o comportamientos no humanos.

You are like a man in a fever. When that fever passes, your enthusiasm will turn to disgust. Your present opinion of me makes me unhappy enough. But when I think of the disillusionment that is to come, I feel even greater sorrow.

Vả lại xã hội ngày nay đã phát triển khác xưa, chúng ta không được sử dụng những phương tiện của những cách làm hèn hạ như dao kiếm giáo mác... mà chỉ nên dùng những kỹ thuật cao sang như mỉa mai, cạnh khóe, phỉ báng, giễu cợt... mà giết thôi.

But it speaks for an inner world— and again this is evident in Murakami— that sits in a different dimension from the smooth-running, flawlessly attentive, and all but anonymous machine that keeps public order moving forward so efficiently in Japan.

For some reason I have become terribly serious since arriving here,” Sōseki wrote, in his “Letter from London,” a year after his arrival in England. “Looking and listening to everything around me, I think incessantly of the problem of ‘Japan’s future.’” Its future, then as now, involves trying to make a peace, or form a synthesis, between the ancient Chinese ideal of sitting still and watching the seasons pass, tending to social harmonies, and the new American way of pushing forward individually , convinced that tomorrow will be better than today.

This may be our last good-by. Take care of yourself." Her eyes were full of tears. I did not cry, but was almost going to. After the train had run some distance, thinking it would be all right now, I poked my head out of the window and looked back. She was still there. She looked very small.

But I believe that a commonplace idea stated with passionate conviction carries more living truth than some novel observation expressed with cool indifference. It is the force of blood that drives the body, after all. Words are not just vibrations in the air, they work more powerfully than that, on more powerful objects.

The novelist Natsume Soseki counted his morning trips to the toilet a great pleasure, 'a physiological delight' he called it. And surely there could be no better place to savor this pleasure than a Japanese toilet where, surrounded by tranquil walls and finely grained wood, one looks out upon blue skies and green leaves.

The skinny Doya-sensei, in his cotton clothing, appeared on stage. He had braved the elements, walking as straight as a needle. Exposed to the dry wind, he looked like an old withered gourd. The sound of hands clapping filled the air. The clapping of hands is not necessarily the same as applause. Takayanagi alone sat silently and adjusted his collar. "Man is a link between the past and the future." Doya-sensei began abruptly. The audience was taken by surprise. No one started his lecture this way. "Those who carry over the past into the future are called conservative; those who save the future from the past are called progressive." The audience was more puzzled than before. Among the audience of three hundred were those who came to jeer Doya-sensei. Like sumo wrestlers in a ring, they watched for a chance to take advantage of their opponent. They were poised like a snake ready to strike. In Doya-sensei's vision there was nothing but the Way. "If you say you have no past in yourself, you may as well say you have no parents. If you say you have no future in yourself, you may as well say you have no capacity to beget children. One's standpoint should be clear from this. Either to live for your parents, to live for your children, or to live for yourself: your mission in life can be only one of these three alternatives.

On my arrival at Tokyo, I rushed into her house swinging my valise, before going to a hotel, with "Hello, Kiyo, I'm back!" "How good of you to return so soon!" she cried and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. I was overjoyed, and declared that I would not go to the country any more but would start housekeeping with Kiyo in Tokyo. Some time afterward, some one helped me to a job as assistant engineer at the tram car office. The salary was 25 yen a month, and the house rent six. Although the house had not a magnificent front entrance, Kiyo seemed quite satisfied, but, I am sorry to say, she was a victim of pneumonia and died in February this year. On the day preceding her death, she asked me to bedside, and said, "Please, Master Darling, if Kiyo is dead, bury me in the temple yard of Master Darling. I will be glad to wait in the grave for my Master Darling." So Kiyo's grave is in the Yogen temple at Kobinata.

Uspinjao sam se brdskom stazom i razmišljao. Povodiš li se za razumom, povrijedit ćeš ljude. Prepustiš li se veslima osjećaja, tko zna kamo će te otplaviti. A ne valja ni kad želiš da uvijek bude po tvome. Bilo kako bilo, u ovome je svijetu teško živjeti. Kada bi taj osjećaj postao izrazito snažan, poželio bih otići nekamo gdje bi mi bilo lakše. ali kad sam shvatio da bi mi svagdje, ma kamo god otišao, bilo podjednako teško živjeti, počeo sam pisati pjesme i slikati.

Uygarlık önce sınırları ortadan kaldırarak bireyselliği geliştirdi, şimdi de sınırlar getirerek onu ayağının altında eziyor. Günümüz uygarlığı yetişkinlere dünya üzerinde belli bir alan verip bu alanda istediğin gibi uyuyabilir ve uyanabilirsin diyor. Aynı zamanda bu alanın çevresine demir çitler örüp bunun ötesine bir adım dahi atmak yok diyerek gözdağı veriyor. Kendi alanında dilediği gibi davranan canlıların, çitlerin ötesinde de diledikleri gibi davranmak istemeleri doğanın kanunudur.

Dürüstlük ve samimiyet bende mevcut. Sadece bu özelliklerimi insanlarda uygulayamıyorum." "Nedenmiş?" Daisuke yanıt vermekte zorlandı. Ona göre dürüstlük de, samimiyet de yüreğinizde hazır tuttuğunuz şeyler değildi. Demirin taşa sürtündüğü zamanda kıvılcım çıkarması gibiydi. Karşıdaki kişiye bağlı olarak, ancak sağlıklı bir bağ kurulduğunda bu olgu oluşabilirdi iki kişi arasında. Kişinin kendisinde bulunması gereken bir özellik olduğu kadar, karşılıklı bir ruhsal ilişkinin de sonucuydu. Bu nedenle, karşınızdaki doğru kişi değilsei insanda bu hisler oluşamazdı.

I have a loan of three yen from Kiyo, which I have not yet returned, although five years have passed. Do not think I cannot pay it back, but I will not, for the noble Kiyo will never dream of being paid back; she never lends me money in prospect of my greater income. On my part too, it would be a sin to think of returning it, as it would indicate that the tie binding us is based on duty and not upon affection. The more I think of such a thing, the greater pain would it give Kiyo, for it might mean that I doubted the purity of her mind. It is true the debt has not been paid back, but it is not because I considered it nothing, but because I think her a part of my own flesh and blood.

Ever since my school days I've always taken a scunner to businessmen. They'll do anything for money. They are, after all, what they used to be called in the good old days; the very dregs of society." My master, with a businessman right there in front of him, indulges in tactlessness. "Oh, have a heart. They arent always like that. Admittedly there's a certain coarseness about them; for there's no point in even trying to be a businessman unless your love for money is so absolute that you're ready to accompany it on the walk to a double suicide. For money, believe you me, is a hard mistress and none of her lovers are let off lightly. As a matter of fact, I've just been visiting a businessman and according to him, the only way to succeed is to practice the 'triangle technique': try to escape your obligations, annihilate your kindly feelings, and geld yourself of the sense of shame. Try-an-geld. You get it? Jolly clever, don't you think?" "What awful fathead told you that?

Todos tenemos derecho a beber sake, pero si nos convencemos de que no nos concierne en absoluto, podremos entrar en una bodega sin pensar siquiera en beber. Quizá lo único que evita que nos convirtamos en ladrones es que logremos aclimatarnos desde pequeños al estado de las cosas. Un estado, por otro lado, que es consecuencia directa de anestesiar una parte de nuestra condición humana. De manera que si seguimos adelante, complacidos con nosotros mismos, terminaremos por transformarnos en idiotas. Nadie pretende que los demás acaben robando, obviamente, pero en mi humilde opinión lo más virtuoso que se puede hacer por otra persona es ayudarla a desarrollar al máximo sus capacidades. Si mi yo de entonces hubiera sobrevivido hasta el momento presente sin cambios, ahora sería obediente, y trabajador, pero también un perfecto idiota. Probablemente peor que eso. Resulta obvio para cualquiera que se tome la molestia de analizarlo un poco. Se supone que los seres humanos tienen que enfadarse, se supone que deben rebelarse. Es su naturaleza. Obligarse a convertirse en una criatura que no se irrita por nada, que nunca se revuelve, equivale a ser un idiota. Como mínimo, arruinaremos nuestra salud. Si a alguien no le gusta lo que digo, debería organizar su vida para no enfadarse ni rebelarse nunca.

When I came here, Porcupine was the first to treat me to ice water. To be treated by such a fellow, even if it is so trifling a thing as ice water, affects my honor. I had only one glass then and had him pay only one sen and a half. But one sen or half sen, I shall not die in peace if I accept a favor from a swindler. I will pay it back tomorrow when I go to the school. I borrowed three yen from Kiyo. That three yen is not paid yet to-day, though it is five years since. Not that I could not pay, but that I did not want to. Kiyo never looks to my pocket thinking I shall pay it back by-the-bye. Not by any means. I myself do not expect to fulfill cold obligation like a stranger by meditating on returning it. The more I worry about paying it back, the more I may be doubting the honest heart of Kiyo. It would be the same as traducing her pure mind. I have not paid her back that three yen not because I regard her lightly, but because I regard her as part of myself. Kiyo and Porcupine cannot be compared, of course, but whether it be ice water or tea, the fact that I accept another’s favor without saying anything is an act of good-will, taking the other on his par value, as a decent fellow. Instead of chipping in my share, and settling each account, to receive munificence with grateful mind is an acknowledgment which no amount of money can purchase

Uyurken de uyanıkken de, her yerde her zaman hep ne yaptığımıza dikkat ederek yaşıyoruz. Bu yüzden de tüm davranışlarımız ve sözlerimiz yapaylaşıyor, yapmacık bir hal alıyor. Hayatımızı acı çekerek yaşamaya başlıyoruz. Sabahtan akşama kadar üzerimizde, evlilik görüşmesi yapan gençlerin yaşadığı gerginlikle geziyoruz. Sakinlik ve huzur kelimeleri artık sadece kâğıt üzerinde kalmış. Bunları gerçekten hisseden hiç kimse kalmamış. Bu açıdan bakıldığında günümüz modern toplumuna mensup fertlerin tümü aslında birer dedektif ve birer soyguncu. Dedektif denilen insanların işi başkalarının gözünü boyayıp ustaca işleri yalnızca kendilerinin yapabileceğini söylemektir. Bu nedenle, kendi bilinçlerine duydukları farkındalık seviyesi müthiş derecede yüksek olmak durumundadır. Hırsızlar da keza aynı şekilde. Her an yakalanma ihtimali kafalarını sürekli meşgul ettiğinden ister istemez davranışlarının bilincinde olmaları gerekiyor. Günümüz insanları da bir şekilde daha fazla kâr edebilir miyim yoksa edemez miyim düşüncesi içinde yaşadığından, doğal olarak dedektifler ve hırsızlar ile aynı kefede yer alıyorlar. Öz farkındalıkları ister istemez yüksek oluyor. Şunu mu yapsam bunu mu yapsam diye gece gündüz kafa yorduklarından, huzur denilen şeyi bir an olsun hissedemeyen modern toplum insanının dramıdır bu anlattığım. Medeniyetin getirdiği bir beladır. Ahmaklığın vücut bulmuş halidir.

Kokoro, a remarkable novel by Natsume Soseki,

I was thinking a lot about loneliness, because we were now reading Kokoro, a remarkable novel by Natsume Soseki, which was published in 1914 and was one of fourteen novels Soseki wrote after retiring from a professorship at Tokyo’s Imperial University. It was a book I’d read once before, in college, when I’d taken a course from its translator, Edwin McClellan. I’d been struck by Soseki’s exploration of the complex nature of friendship, especially among people who aren’t equals, in this case a student and his teacher. I wanted Mom to read it, and to read it again myself. When we talked about the novel, we discovered that we both had been startled by the same quote, an explanation of loneliness the teacher tells to the young man. The teacher says: “Loneliness is the price we have to pay for being born in this modern world, so full of freedom, independence and our own egotistical selves.

Sensei’s love story also had a tragic side, one that his wife knew nothing about. Sensei kept this secret until his death, destroying his own life before harming hers.

You just mocked that couple, but your mockery sounded like frustration from wanting love but not finding it.” “Did it really sound that way?” “Yes. Someone who’s satisfied with love speaks more warmly.

I was gripped by the thought that I had made a terrible mistake. A dark realization that there was no turning back pierced my future, illuminating my entire life ahead in a terrifying light.

You mentioned that there’s no one particularly bad among your relatives. But do you believe there are inherently bad people in this world? No one is born a villain. Everyone appears to be good or at least normal until a crucial moment reveals their true nature. That’s what makes people so frightening.

I was a fool who slipped while intending to walk the path of honesty.

Sensei’s seemingly cold remarks and actions were not meant to push me away, but rather a warning that he wasn’t worth getting close to.

He had a magnificent physique; the physique, one might say, of the Emperor of Catdom. Among cats both our four main occupations ( walking, standing, sitting and lying down ) and such incidental activities as excreting waste are pursued quite openly. We live our diaries and consequently have no need to keep a daily record as a means of maintaining our real characters. Had I had the time to keep a diary, I'd use that time to better effect, sleeping on the veranda. When cats exchange greetings one first holds one's tail upright like a pole, then twists it round to the left.

I am a solitary person with almost no social engagements. Thus, duties are sparse around me. Whether intentionally or naturally, I have trimmed my life to avoid them. However, it is not due to indifference towards duty. On the contrary, I am too sensitive to endure the stimulus. Consequently, I lead a passive existence.

... there are those in the world who admit to thinking themselves under loving observation by persons who merely happen to be cross-eyed.

Es relativamente fácil volver a una persona loca para toda la vida, pero incluso el mismo Dios, que es una hábil, parece haber encontrado muchas dificultades para volver a una persona loca tan sólo durante un pequeño espacio de tiempo, es decir, mientras está pluma en mano o mientras está ante el papel en blanco. A falta de poder contar con Dios, hay que volverse loco por sí mismo.

[The feline protagonist:] If we want to eat, we eat; if we want to sleep, we sleep; when we are angry, we are angry utterly; when we cry, we cry with all the desperation of extreme commitment to our grief.

Near the entrance to the famous Specimen Room at Tokyo University, there was a lavishly gilded casket that housed an ancient Egyptian mummy, said by some to have been the favorite concubine of King Tut himself. Elsewhere in the room, the disembodied brains of such celebrated novelists as Natsume Soseki and Kanzo Uchimura were on display, floating dreamily in formaldehyde. Then there was the distinguished married couple, both professors of medicine, who had willed their bodies to science in the 1920s. Now their perfect ivory skeletons stood at attention by the entrance, like a pair of sentries. Interesting though these objects were, the most riveting thing in the room was the collection of vividly colored, intricately-tattooed skins hanging on the walls and suspended from the ceiling. They looked to Kenzo like an eerie parade of souls in limbo, and he gazed at them in awe and fascination.

If I am to dominate the universe, then I would, in one swift go, swallow up the whole world. But if the universe is to rule over me, then I would become no more than a mote of dust. Tell me, I entreat you, what is the correct relation between myself and the universe.