But love flowed into the apology, to coddle and mollify the guilt. - Yasunari Kawabata

Seeing the moon, he becomes the moon, the moon seen by him becomes him. He sinks into nature, becomes one with nature. The light of the "clear heart" of the priest, seated in the meditation hall in the darkness before the dawn, becomes for the dawn moon its own light.

Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.

"What I believe to be memories are probably daydreams. Still, my own sentimentality yearns for them as if they were the truth, suspect or twisted though they may be. I have forgotten that they were stories I heard from another and feel an intimacy with them as if they were my own direct memories"

-from "Oil"