“For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.”

“Among all the other nights upon nights, the girl had spent that one on the boat….when it happened, the burst of Chopin…. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the music spread all over the dark boat, like a heavenly injunction whose import was unknown, like an order from God whose meaning was inscrutable. And the girl started up as if to go and kill herself in her turn, throw herself in her turn into the sea, and afterwards, she wept because she thought of the man from Cholon and suddenly she wasn’t sure she hadn’t loved him with a love she hadn’t seen because it had lost itself in the affair like water in the sand and she rediscovered it only now, through this moment of music.”

“Deep inside her (ih her harrowed soul) she felt a glowing ember of fury at the man responsible for this. Tha man who had put her in this position. She looked at the pistol lying beside the basin, and knew that if he were here, she would use it on him without a moment's hesitation. Knowing that made her feel confused about herself. It also made her feel a little stronger.”

“I had a day when I was busy in the world, where the activity created a turmoil on the surface of my consciousness like waves on the surface of the ocean, which made it difficult to see through the waves to the inner silence. It reminded me that we need to develop both the capacity to use the mind when engaged in activity and social relations, and to be able to let go of the activity and to come in contact with the deep inner silence. The relationship between being active in the world and in social relations and the inner silence is like the relationship between the waves on the surface of the ocean and the deep inner silence on the bottom of the ocean.”

“Once to swim I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty son-bird, perished.Never come a-fishing, father,To the borders of these waters,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest daughter Aino.Mother dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colors,Sank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never mix thy bread, dear mother,With the blue-sea's foam and waters,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest daughter Aino.Brother dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never bring thy prancing war-horse,Never bring thy royal racer,Never bring thy steeds to water,To the borders of the blue-sea,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest sister Aino.Sister dear, I sought the sea-side,There to sport among the billows;With the stone of many colorsSank poor Aino to the bottomOf the deep and boundless blue-sea,Like a pretty song-bird perished.Never come to lave thine eyelidsIn this rolling wave and sea-foam,Never during all thy life-time,As thou lovest sister Aino.All the waters in the blue-seaShall be blood of Aino's body;All the fish that swim these watersShall be Aino's flesh forever;All the willows on the sea-sideShall be Aino's ribs hereafter;All the sea-grass on the marginWill have grown from Aino's tresses.”

“I knew her better than herself …and she was beautiful and strong and felt deep. It has always surprised me to see the way she saw herself; how little she thought about her person. It struck me as surprising because every single time I’ve seen her, I’ve thought her larger than life. And that’s why the world feared her. Because they couldn’t compare to her; she raised a new bar for others to be measured by. Because looking at the sun hurts…and she was that to me. My own piece of sky.”