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
mother turtles agreement
If Mother and Mameha couldn't come to an agreement, I would remain a maid all my life just as surely as a turtle remains a turtle
mother reading writing
Geisha because when I was living in Japan, I met a fellow whose mother was a geisha, and I thought that was kind of fascinating and ended up reading about the subject just about the same time I was getting interested in writing fiction.
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.
mother father school
I studied Japanese language and culture in college and graduate school, and afterward went to work in Tokyo, where I met a young man whose father was a famous businessman and whose mother was a geisha. He and I never discussed his parentage, which was an open secret, but it fascinated me.
misery miserable-people miserable
We can never flee the misery that is within us.
spring winter self
We all know that a winter scene, though it may be covered over one day, with even the trees dressed in shawls of snow, will be unrecognizable the following spring. Yet I never imagined such a thing could occur within our very selves.
said helpless
I didn't say to act dead. I said act helpless.
kind moments painful
At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.
choices want geisha
We don't become geisha because we want our lives to be happy; we become geisha because we have no choice.
feelings body might
And then I became aware of all the magnificent silk wrapped around my body, and had the feeling I might drown in beauty. At that moment, beauty itself struck me as a kind of painful melancholy.
two facts week
Yet somehow the thing that startled me most, after a week or two had passed, was that I had in fact survived.
beautiful tree branches
A tree may look as beautiful as ever; but when you notice the insects infesting it, and the tips of the branches that are brown from disease, even the trunk seems to lose some of its magnificence.
rain years suffering
If a few minutes of suffering could make me so angry, what would years of it do? Even a stone can be worn down with enough rain.
wells memoir knows
No one knows the author of memoir so well like himself.