More Quotes by Yasunari Kawabata
A poetess who had died young of cancer had said in one of her poems that for her, on sleepless nights, 'the night offers toads and black dogs and corpses of the drowned.
The snow on the distant mountains was soft and creamy, as if veiled in a faint smoke.
The labor into which a heart has poured its whole love--where will it have its say, to excite and inspire, and when?
They were words that came out of nothing, but they seemed to him somehow significant. He muttered them over again.
Now, even more than the evening before, he could think of no one with whom to compare her. She had become absolute, beyond comparison. She had become decision and fate.
A secret, if it's kept, can be sweet and comforting, but once it leaks out it can turn on you with a vengeance.
I suppose even a woman's hatred is a kind of love.
I wonder what the retirement age is in the novel business. The day you die.
Lunatics have no age. If we were crazy, you and I, we might be a great deal younger.
People have separated from each other with walls of concrete that blocked the roads to connection and love. and Nature has been defeated in the name of development.
