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THE TRAIN came out of the long tunnel into the snow country.

Yasunari Kawabata

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Yasunari Kawabata
Age: 72 †
Born: 1899
Born: June 11
Died: 1972
Died: April 16
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Ōsaka
Country
Long
Tunnel
Tunnels
Snow
Train
Came

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Seeing the moon, he becomes the moon, the moon seen by him becomes him. He sinks into nature, becomes one with nature. The light of the clear heart of the priest, seated in the meditation hall in the darkness before the dawn, becomes for the dawn moon its own light.
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The snow on the distant mountains was soft and creamy, as if veiled in a faint smoke.
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The winter moon becomes a companion, the heart of the priest, sunk in meditation upon religion and philosophy, there in the mountain hall, is engaged in a delicate interplay and exchange with the moon and it is this of which the poet sings.
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It's remarkable how we go on year after year, doing the same old things. We get tired and bored, and ask when they'll come for us
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They were words that came out of nothing, but they seemed to him somehow significant. He muttered them over again.
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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.
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Lunatics have no age. If we were crazy, you and I, we might be a great deal younger.
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And I can't complain. After all, only women are able really to love.
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A child walked by, rolling a metal hoop that made a sound of autumn.
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Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.
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Because you cannot see him, God is everywhere.
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The labor into which a heart has poured its whole love--where will it have its say, to excite and inspire, and when?
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Does pain go away and leave no trace, then?’ ‘You sometimes even feel sentimental for it.
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I suppose even a woman's hatred is a kind of love.
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Put your soul in the palm of my hand for me to look at, like a crystal jewel. I'll sketch it in words.
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Our language is primarily for expressing human goodness and beauty.
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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.
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