The Book of Changes used and quoted in this marc jacobs sale the Richard Wilhelm translation rendered into English by Cary F. Baynes, published by Pantheon Books, Bollingen Series XIX, 1950, by the Bollingen Foundation, Inc., New York.
The haiku on page 45 is by Yosa Buson, translated by Harold G. Henderson, from the Anthology of Japanese Literature, Volume One, compiled and edited by Donald Keene, Grove Press, 1955, New York.
The waka on page 128 is by Chiyo, translated by Daisetz T. Suzuki, from Zen and Japanese Culture, by Daisetz T. Suzuki, published by Pantheon Books, Bollingen Series LXIV, 1959, by the Bollingen Foundation, Inc., Nice Kicks,
I have made much use of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, A History of Nazi Germany, by William L. Shirer, Simon and Schuster, 1960, New York; Hitler, a Study in Tyranny, byAlanBullock, Harper, 1953, New York; The Goebbels Diaries, 1942-1943, edited and translated by Louis P. Lochner, Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1948, New York; The Tibetan Book of the Dead, compiled and edited by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, Oxford University Press, 1960, New York; The Foxes of the Desert, by Paul Carell, E.P. Dutton & Company, Inc., 1961, New York. And I owe personal thanks to the eminent Western writer Will Cook for his help with material dealing with historic artifacts and the U. S. Frontier Period.
Their nfl jewelry, warm not only with human bond but with the shared enjoyment of the art objects he sold, their mutual tastes and satisfactions, remained fixed on him; they were thanking him for having things like these for them to see, pick up and examine, handle perhaps without even buying. Yes, he thought, they know what sort of store they are in; this is not tourist trash, not redwood plaques reading MUIR WOODS, MARIN COUNTY, PSA, or funny signs or girly rings or postcards or views of the Bridge. The girl's eyes especially, large, dark. How easily, Childan thought, I could fall in love with a girl like this. How tragic my life, then; as if it weren't bad enough already. The stylish black hair, lacquered nails, pierced ears for the long dangling brass handmade earrings.
'Your earrings,' he murmured. 'Purchased marc jacobs handbags sale, perhaps?'
'No,' she said. 'At home.'
Childan nodded. No contemporary American art; only the past could be represented here, in a store such as his. 'You are here for long?' he asked. 'To our San Francisco?'
'I'm stationed here indefinitely,' the man said. 'With Standard of Living for Unfortunate Areas Planning Commission of Inquiry.' Pride showed on his face. Not the military. Not one of the gum-chewing boorish draftees with their greedy peasant faces, wandering up Market Street, gaping at the bawdy shows, the sex movies, the shooting galleries, the cheap nightclubs with photos of middle-aged blondes holding their nipples between their wrinkled fingers and leering . . . the honkytonk jazz slums that made up most of the flat part of San Francisco, rickety tin and board shacks that had sprung up from the ruins even before the last bomb fell. No - this man was of the elite. Cultured, educated, even more so than Mr. Tagomi, who was after all a high official with the ranking Trade Mission on the Pacific Running Warehouse. Tagomi was an old man. His attitudes had formed in the War Cabinet days.