“I seek and don’t find myself. I belong to chrysanthemum hours, neatly lined up in flowerpots.”

“I look for myself but find no one. I belong to the chrysanthemum hour of bright flowers placed in tall vases. I should make an ornament of my soul.”

“From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines.”

“Round and round the questions flew, until finally I found myself standing at the open door of a bookshop. It’s natural in times of great perplexity, I think, to seek out the familiar, and the high shelves and long rows of neatly lined-up spines were immensely reassuring. Amid the smell of ink and binding, the dusty motes in beams of strained sunlight, the embrace of warm, tranquil air, I felt that I could breathe more easily.”

“I happen to find ceilings much lovelier than the night sky myself. Sometimes I just stare at them for hours and wonder what could be up there.”

“I don’t want to accidentally end up looking back on my life to find that I’m ashamed of myself, I want to live a life I can be proud of.”