After the return from England, I used to live in an apartment house near the harbour of Yokohama with my wife. She was a British girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, whom I had met first in York of England, and she was inclined to quote proverbs in the conversation.
It was one fine afternoon on the May. My wife and I were having tea on the balcony commanding the fine view of the bayside scene. Then she said, “do you know this English proverb? ‘a good tale is none the worse for being told twice.’ then, a tale about Japanese war crimes horrifies me none the less for being told twice. Its cruelty is such that I cannot accustom myself to it.”
Hearing her frank impression, I wonder if there exists crueler people than Japanese on the Earth.