Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden

I began to feel like a tree whose roots had at last broken into the rich,
wet soil deep beneath the surface.

“She paints her face to hide her face. Her eyes are deep water. It is not for Geisha to want. It is not for geisha to feel. Geisha is an artist of the floating world. She dances, she sings. She entertains you, whatever you want. The rest is shadows, the rest is secret.”

“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves. Until one day there are none.”


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