Is this not so? Gliding, across her fair skin, as if the sun itself was made to bring her light. Dazzling, it must be, from only what smile she can conjure. Such electricity, such brilliance, and the deities themselves woven what tapestry she is. Strength that makes what dismal day lit. The candle that softens in what late of night. What heart would beat, if not in my chest for her, and only her, and cause me great sorrow should but one tear fall. She is beautiful, is this not so?
– Mitsuo Tanaka