I wonder what inspires a man to complain of “having nothing to do.” I am happiest when I have nothing to distract me and I am completely alone.
They flock together like ants, hurry east and west, run north and south. Some are mighty, some humble. Some aged, some young. They have places to go, houses to return to. At night they sleep, in the morning get up.
Kin’yo, an officer of the second rank, had a brother called the High Priest Ryōgaku, an extremely bad-tempered man.
If man were never to fade away like the dews of Adashino, never to vanish like the smoke over Toribeyama, but lingered on forever in the world, how things would lose their power to move us.