The cynicism that regards all hero worship as comical is always shadowed by a sense […]
I want to make a poem of my life. Yukio Mishima
When silence is prolonged over a certain period of time, it takes on new meaning. […]
Again and again, the cicada’s untiring cry pierced the sultry summer air like a needle […]
As long as you know I am waiting, take your time flowers of the spring. […]
Beauty is something that burns the hand when you touch it. Yukio Mishima
Nobody even imagines how well one can lie about the state of one’s own heart. […]
Perfect purity is possible if you turn your life into a line of poetry written […]
True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys. Yukio Mishima