Kokoro

How can I escape, except through faith, madness, or death?

“Why is it, Sensei, that you are not as interested in books as you once were?”

“There is no particular reason . . . Well, perhaps it is because I have decided that no matter how many books I may read, I shall never be a very much better man than I am now. And . . .”

“And?”

“This is not very important, but to tell you the truth, I used to consider it a disgrace to be found ignorant by other people. But now, I find that I am not ashamed of knowing less than others, and I am less inclined to force myself to read books. In short, I have grown old and decrepit.”

His curt and cold ways were not designed to express his dislike of me, but they were meant rather as a warning to me that I would not want him as a friend. It was because he despised himself that he refused to accept openheartedly the intimacy of others. I feel great pity for him

I was saddened by the thought that she, whom I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world, could not understand me.

Sometimes, I almost believed that night had fallen for ever

Apart from myself, only heaven knew me for what I was.

I think that had K and I been alone in some wilderness, I would have listened to the cry of my conscience

I can’t decide whether to take a step forward or to turn back.” Once more, I prodded him: “Tell me, can you really turn back if you want to?” Suddenly, he seemed lost for an answer. All he said was: “I cannot bear this pain.”

I want you to understand that I was not walking in order to forget K. Indeed, one might say that I was wandering about the streets in pursuit of K’s image.

The cold of early winter and my own loneliness seemed to grip my whole body