Better To Be Caught In

He Had Never Looked Forward To The Wisdom And Other Vaunted Benefits Of Old Age. Would He Be Able To Die Young—and If Possible Free Of All Pain? A Graceful Death—as A Richly Patterned Kimono, Thrown Carelessly Across A Polished Table, Slides Unobtrusively Down Into The Darkness Of The Floor Beneath. A Death Marked By Elegance.

At No Time Are We Ever In Such Complete Possession Of A Journey, Down To Its Last Nook And Cranny, As When We Are Busy With Preparations For It. After That, There Remains Only The Journey Itself, Which Is Nothing But The Process Through Which We Lose Our Ownership Of It.

He Was In A Room Of The Gesshuuji, Which He Had Thought It Would Be Impossible To Visit. The Approach Of Death Had Made The Visit Easy, Had Unloosed The Weight That Held Him In The Depths Of Being. It Was Even A Comfort To Think, From The Light Repose The Struggle Up The Hill Had Brought Him, That Kiyoaki, Struggling Against Illness Up That Same Road, Had Been Given Wings To Soar With By The Denial That Awaited Him.

Human Beings - They Go On Being Born And Dying, Dying And Being Born. It's Kind Of Boring, Isn't It?

We Are Not Wounded So Deeply When Betrayed By The Things We Hope For As When Betrayed By Things We Try Our Best To Despise. In Such Betrayal Comes The Dagger In The Back.