People Have Separated From Each Other With

It's Remarkable How We Go On Year After Year, Doing The Same Old Things. We Get Tired And Bored, And Ask When They'll Come For Us

But, Drawn To Her At That Moment, He Felt A Quiet Like The Voice Of The Rain Flow Over Him. He Knew Well Enough That For Her It Was In Fact No Waste Of Effort, But Somehow The Final Determination That It Was Had The Effect Of Distilling And Purifying The Woman's Existence.

The Snow On The Distant Mountains Was Soft And Creamy, As If Veiled In A Faint Smoke.

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 True Joy Of A Moonlit Night Is Something We No Longer Understand. Only The Men Of Old, When There Were No Lights, Could Understand The True Joy Of A Moonlit Night.