"My six and seventy years are through. I was not born, I am not dead. Clouds floating on the high wide skies The moon …"

"As if to say— "Isn't it true for men, as well: that the more the words, the less they are of value?"— the cuckoo does…"

"When I look upon the rich sheen of summer hairs in my new brush, I am saddened by a deer drawn at night to a hunter's…"

"I had forgotten— as I kept on forgetting to remind myself that those who vow to forget are the ones who can't forget."

"All these images from a world of long ago— of what good are they? Pine winds, come—please blow away these unforgotten…"

"Even in one’s sleep, it is dreams of this world one sees, and of no other; just as there is no dawning here that brin…"