Arthur Golden
Arthur Golden
Arthur Goldenis an American writer. He is the author of the bestselling novel Memoirs of a Geisha...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth6 December 1956
CountryUnited States of America
eye matter way
It's less a matter of looking the other way than of closing our eyes to what we can't stop from happening.
growing way remarkable
We human beings have a remarkable way of growing accustomed to things.
writing past men
As an American man of the 1990s writing about a Japanese woman of the 1930s, I needed to cross three cultural divides - man to woman, American to Japanese, and present to past.
thinking world geisha
If you aren't the woman I think you are, then this isn't the world I thought it was.
struggle worry effort
His face was very heavily creased, and into each crease he had tucked some worry or other, so that it wasn't really his face any longer, but more like a tree that had nests of birds in all of the branches. He had to struggle constantly to manage it and always looked worn out from the effort.
might like-you desperate
You seemed so desperate, like you might drown if someone didn't save you.
mother memories ocean
I cannot tell you what it is that guides us in this life; but for me, I fell toward the Chairman just as a stone must fall toward the earth. When I cut my lip and met Mr. Tanaka, when my mother died and I was cruelly sold, it was all like a stream that falls over rocky cliffs before it can reach the ocean. Even now that he is gone I have him still, in the richness of my memories.
men gone-away wife
I began to feel that all the people I'd ever known who had died or left me had not in fact gone away, but continued to live on inside me just as this man's wife lived on inside him.
precious-things
Friendship is a precious thing, Sayuri. One mustn't throw it away.
morning nice men
You know, the men go to tea houses with the expectation that they will have a nice quiet evening and not read about it the next morning in the newspaper.
flower one-day grows
Flowers that grow where old ones have withered serve to remind us that death will one day come to us all.
rain mean boys
Couldn't the wrong sort of living turn anyone mean? I remembered very well that one day back in Yoroido, a boy pushed me into a thorn bush near the pond. By the time I clawed my way out I was mad enough to bite through wood. If a few minutes of suffering could make me so angry, what would years of it do? Even stone can be worn down with enough rain.
men mood geisha
A geisha has studied a man's moods and his seasons. She fusses and he blooms.
girl crowds empty
All at once I felt so vain, like a girl posturing for the crowds as she walks along, only to discover the street is empty.