The Train Came Out Of

The Labor Into Which A Heart Has Poured Its Whole Love--where Will It Have Its Say, To Excite And Inspire, And When?

I Suppose Even A Woman's Hatred Is A Kind Of Love.

Put Your Soul In The Palm Of My Hand For Me To Look At, Like A Crystal Jewel. I'll Sketch It In Words.

But A Haiku By Buson Came Into His Mind: 'i Try To Forget This Senile Love; A Chilly Autumn Shower.' The Gloom Only Grew Denser.

The Woman Was Silent, Her Eyes On The Floor. Shimamura Had Come To A Point Where He Knew He Was Only Parading His Masculine Shamelessness, And Yet It Seemed Likely Enough That The Woman Was Familiar With The Failing And Need Not Be Shocked By It. He Looked At Her. Perhaps It Was The Rich Lashes Of The Downcast Eyes That Made Her Face Seem Warm And Sensuous. She Shook Her Head Very Slightly, And Again A Faint Blush Spread Over Her Face.