Memories Of A Geisha Quotes by Arthur Golden and many others.
At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.
I never seek to defeat the man I am fighting, ” he explained. “I seek to defeat his confidence. A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course to victory. Two men are equals – true equals – only when they both have equal confidence.
Well, a peach has a lovely taste and so does a mushroom, but you can’t put the two together.
I will think of you every time I need to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in the world.
We none of us find as much kindness in this world as we should.
I don’t think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it.
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.
A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course of victory.
We don’t become geisha because we want our lives to be happy; we become geisha because we have no choice.
I don’t know when we’ll see each other again or what the world will be like when we do. We may both have seen many horrible things. But I will think of you every time I need to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in the world.
He was like a song I’d heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.
If a few minutes of suffering could make me so angry, what would years of it do? Even a stone can be worn down with enough rain.
Sadness was a very heavy thing.
I don’t like things held up before me that I cannot have.
His face was very heavily creased, and into each crease he had tucked some worry or other, so that it wasn’t really his face any longer, but more like a tree that had nests of birds in all of the branches. He had to struggle constantly to manage it and always looked worn out from the effort.
Watch for the thing that will show itself to you. Because that thing, when you find it, will be your future.
Grief is a most peculiar thing; we’re so helpless in the face of it. It’s like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it.
Pages: 1 2