Essayists From Japan

"Why can't one love with one's body those whom one loves with one's heart?"

"Here and there, I see farmers' melancholy faces. The faces are dark, looking only at the ground. On the ground, spring, like smallpox, is ponderously erupting."

"Since my tender boyhood I've been tormented by my soul's nostalgia with no apparent cause. My night bed was whitishly wet with tears, when the day broke the intestines of my sentimentality were scratched apart by the rooster's voice. For days I ran around the edges of the spring field aimlessly in love with a member of the opposite sex, hugging a tree trunk alone, singing "The One Who's in Love with Love.""

"Thus I make poetry. Like the moths that swarm around a lantern, deceived by the phantom of certain flowery mysterious sentiments, trying to touch the essence of invisible reality, I vainly flap, flap my wings as fragile as sponge cake. I am a pitiable fantasizing child, the sad fate of a moth."

"Ah in this landscape that trails shadows my soul clutches an itchy terror like a ship that has come from a harbor it has come crossing the islands with wraiths in the distance it's neither wind nor rain all of it a dark fear clinging to the sufferings of love and lust and at the dull flute-sound that a snake charmer makes my crumbling shadow wept lonely."

"I have made poetry for a long time but I have less and less confidence in it. Someone like me is no more than a miserable blue cat's nightmare."

"I have no more hope no more honor no more future. And irretrievable remorse alone scurried away like a field mouse."

"Ah lukewarm as this spring night you who wander in a vermilion florid kimono you who are as gentle as a younger sister it's neither the cemetery's moon nor phosphorescence nor shadow nor truth and how simply so sad it is. And so my life and body go on rotting and in the shadow of the hazy landscape of "Nihilism" are sensuously yet stickily reclining you see."

"Nature anywhere oppresses me, and human kindnesses make me gloomy, rather I prefer walking in a bustling city park until I get tired, and find a bench under some lonely tree, I prefer to be looking at the sky absentmindedly, ah, I prefer to be looking at the smoke and soot flowing away far and sad over the city sky, or at a swallow flying away over the roofs of buildings, into the distance, small."

"And my heart senses tears it's the heart that always plays quietly alone the heart is lonesome the heart, early in its youthful boyhood, cast a shadow on my life the gradually enlarging shadow of solitude the shadow of terrifying melancholy grows."

"This utterly unknown dog follows me, shabby, limping on its hind leg, a crippled dog's shadow. Ah, I do not know where I'm going, in the direction of the road that I go, roofs of tenements are being pelted pelted in the wind, in a gloomy, empty lot by the road, bone-dry grass leaves are pliantly thinly moving."

"In a field where bats swarmed I watched a pillar of crumbling flesh it trembled lonely in the evening darkness smelled raw like dead-man's-grass that flutters at a shadow and was as ugly as rotting meat with throngs of maggots crawling on it."

"From cause-and-effect's destiny's fixed law's miserable dry plate of a landscape on which despair has frozen run away the pale shadow."

"The Hirose River flows white. Time passes and all illusions must fade away. Wanting to catch my life, one day in the past I cast my line in the river, but ah that happiness was too far away and I didn't see tiny fish even in a flash."

"The air of the countryside is gloomy and oppressive, the touch of the countryside is gritty and sickening, when I sometimes think of the countryside, I'm tormented by the smell of animal skin coarse in texture.I fear the countryside, the countryside is a pale fever dream."

"I close my eyes and try to chew the root of some grass to suck the juice of some grass to suck the bitter juice of melancholy indeed there's no hope for anything there life's just a series of meaningless melancholies"

"When I think of poetry, I become teary, without meaning to, because of the wretchedness of human sentiments."

"Body half buried in sand, still it's lolling its tongue. Over this invertebrate's head, pebbles and brine rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, flowing, flowing, ah so quietly as a dream flowing."

"During the long illness and pain, spiders have covered his face with webs, his body below the waist has faded like a shadow, a bush has grown above his waist, arms rotten, body all over, truly messed up, oh, today again the moon is out, the daybreak moon is out, and in the opaque light like a lantern a deformed white dog is howling."

"Behold all sins have been inscribed, yet not all are mine, verily manifest to me are only phantoms of blue flames without shadows, only the ghosts of pathos that fade off over the snow, ah painful confession on such a day what shall I make of them, all are but phantoms of blue flames."

"My personality, loneliest in the world, is calling loudly to an unknown friend, my obsequious strange personality, looking shabby like a crow, is trembling on the corner of a deserted, winter- withered bench."

"The human lodges collapsed on the ground are asleep like huge spiders. In lonely pitch-dark nature animals tremble with fear and threatened by some Dream Demon are howling sadly pale."

"I think of a mystery hard to solve universal life's instinct's solitary eternally eternally solitary a sentiment ever so flowery."

"Among the four great elements recognized by Buddhism, three--fire, water, and wind--are frequently associated with disasters, but earth is most often identified with stability. Still, in the Saiko era (540), I believe, there was an earthquake so severe that it damaged the neck of the Todaiji's Great Buddha so that the head fell off, and did unusual damage to many other things. But it was no match for the violence of the earthquake this time. Those who experienced this earthquake all talked about it that way at the time, that of all the miserable things in this world, it was the worst, seemed to be a thing of evil passions. But the days and months passed into years, and they came to deplore other things, so that you might go for a month now without meeting anyone talking about the earthquake."

"Nor is it clear to me, as people are born and die, where they are coming from and where they are going. Nor why, being so ephemeral in this world, they take such pains to make their houses pleasing to the eye. The master and the dwelling are competing in their transience. Both will perish from this world like the morning glory that blooms in the morning dew. In some cases, the dew may evaporate first, while the flower remains--but only to be withered by the morning sun. In others the flower may wither even before the dew is gone, but no one expects the dew to last until evening."

"People respond to these disasters in terms of their own experience. Unless the disaster has struck them personally, their circumstances, their environment, it is dismissed as a superficial thing."

"Though the river's current never fails, the water passing, moment by moment, is never the same. Where the current pools, bubbles form on the surface, bursting and disappearing as others rise to replace them, none lasting long. In this world, people and their dwelling places are like that, always changing."

"When you see the ridgepoles of the impressive houses in Heian-kyo competing to rise above one another--dwellings of people of high status or of low--they look like they might stand for generations, but when you inquire you discover there are very few still standing from ages past. Some may have burned down just last year, and been rebuilt since. Or a mansion may have disappeared, to be replaced by smaller houses. Things change in the lives of the people living in those houses, too. There may be just as many people, but in places where I might have known twenty or thirty people in my youth, I may only recognize one or two now. Some die in the morning; others are born in the evening. That's the way it is with the people of this world--they are like those bubbles floating on the water."

"The young people nowadays – men and women, amateurs and pros – generally fall into one of two categories: either they don’t know what it is that’s most important to them, or they know but don’t have the power to go after it. But this girl’s different. She knows what’s most important to her and she knows how to get it, but she doesn’t let on what it is. I’m pretty sure it’s not money, or success, or a normal happy life, or a strong man, or some weird religion, but that’s about all I can tell you. She’s like smoke:you think you’re seeing her clearly enough, but when you reach for her there’s nothing there. That’s a sort of strength, I suppose. But it makes her hard to figure out.”"

"“You have to watch your step with women these days, Pops. She could be involved with Yakuza or something. Even some of the girls in my class -- you should hear the stuff they talk about. Fifteen years old, and there's nothing they don't know. We're not in the age of Peace and Love anymore.”"

"“Nice person, bad person -- that's not the level this girl is at. I can see you're crazy about her and probably won't be able to hear this, Ao-chan, but I think you'd be better off staying away from someone like her. I can't read her exactly, but I can tell you she's either a saint or a monster. Maybe both extremes at once, but not somewhere in between.”"

"One of the photographs in the magazine caught his eye. A homeless youth in New York City. It was the face of a human being who’d been constructed exclusively of wounds. Not time or history or ambition, nothing but wounds. The face of a person who could probably kill someone without feeling anything whatsoever."

"Buying and selling is the basis of all social intercourse, and the commodity an actor or model offered for sale was nothing less than her own being."

"In the old days, things like tropical fish or imported wineglasses weren’t within reach for the average person. Now when you walked down the street you passed shop windows full of the finest quality goods from around the world. Any of these things could be yours if you were willing to sacrifice a little, and many people ended up sacrificing a lot. It’s difficult to control the desire to accumulate things."

"That’s what violence was: emotion leaking out from consciousness into the physical world, linking up with the muscles of the arms and shoulders and diaphragm and, inevitably, the face. Stifle emotion during an act of violence and the face becomes a blank, unreadable mask."

"Yeah, he'd said, maybe it's just my idea, but really it always hurts, the times it don't hurt is when we just forget, we just forget it hurts, you know, it's not just because my belly's all rotten, everybody always hurts. So when it really starts stabbing me, somehow I feel sort of peaceful, like I'm myself again"

"And just because I've written this book, don't think I've changed. I'm like I was back then, really."

"People were infected with the concept that happiness was something outside themselves, and a new and powerful form of loneliness was born. Mix loneliness with stress and enervation, and all sorts of madness can occur. Anxiety increases, and in order to obliterate the anxiety, people turn to extreme sex, violence, and even murder."

"Advertising departments, as you know, are crawling with people whose frontal lobes are so under developed that if you flatter them a bit they'll swear shit is platinum!"

"But sometimes things happen that no one hopes for. Events that cause everything you've worked towards, the life you've carefully constructed piece by piece, to come tumbling down all around you. No one is to blame, but you're left with a wound you can't heal on your own and can't believe you'll ever learn to accept, so you struggle to escape the pain. Only time can heal wounds as deep as that - a lot of time - and all you can really do is place yourself in its hands and try to consider the passing of each day a victory. You tough it out moment by moment, hour by hour, and after some weeks or months you begin to see signs of recovery. Slowly the wound heals into a scar."

"In Japan, even when you’re alone, you’re never really that lonely. But the loneliness you feel among people with differently colored skin and eyes, whose language you don’t even speak very well – that sort of loneliness is something you feel down to the marrow of your bones."

"“I really did suffer a lot,” she said, “and for a lot longer than I even care to remember. I was sure I’d never find anything to take the place of ballet, and it took all my energy just to get through each day. My parents and my friends all said that time alone would heal the wound, and I guess I knew it was true, but I wished I could hibernate or something, and let time go by without having to suffer through it. But of course the clock just kept slowly ticking away. Tick, tick, tick- like it was chipping away at at me, at my life.“"

"To distort our faces with joy, or wail and weep with sorrow, or collapse in agony, or wallow in sentimentality – wasn’t an inviolable human trait but something we can lose simply by leading dull and dreary lives. ‘A rich emotional life,’ she’d written, ‘is a privilege reserved only for the daring few’.”"

"My theory is that sushi and kaiseki are dishes that evolved in peaceful, prosperous times, when eating well was the normal state of affairs. In this country we have the illusion that there's always this warm, loving community we belong to, but the other side of that is a sort of exclusiveness and xenophobia, and our food reflects that. Japanese cuisine isn't inclusive at all-infact it's extremely inhospitable to outsiders, to people who don't fit into the community."

"Every one of a hundred thousand cities around the world had its own special sunset and it was worth going there, just once, if only to see the sun go down."

"Parents, teachers, government - they all teach you how to live the dreary , deadening life of a slave, but nobody teaches you how to live normally."

"The ideal teacher student relationship exists when the student is better than the teacher."

"The fundamental style of my writing has been to start from my personal matters and then to link it up with society, the state and the world."

"Kawabata Yasunari, the first Japanese writer who stood on this platform as a winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, delivered a lecture entitled Japan, the Beautiful, and Myself. It was at once very beautiful and vague. I have used the English word vague as an equivalent of that word in Japanese aiming. This Japanese adjective could have several alternatives for its English translation. The kind of vagueness that Kawabata adopted deliberately is implied in the title itself of his lecture. It can be transliterated as "myself of beautiful Japan". The vagueness of the whole title derives from the Japanese particle "no" (literally "of") linking "Myself" and "Beautiful Japan". The vagueness of the title leaves room for various interpretations of its implications."

"There could be joy in destruction, too, couldn’t there? Isn’t Jesus Christ’s Second Coming supposed to occur only after a lot of unmitigated destruction? But again, human history is fraught with tragedies in which man spared no effort to destroy with millenarian joy, only to learn that no messiah appeared afterwards."