In My Own Way

I, who cannot keep still, may think, “Tomorrow is a rare day off, so tonight I’ll stay up late and sleep in tomorrow,” yet I wake early in the morning and go bustling about all the same.

To say that habits ingrained in the body over long years are a fearsome thing would be an excuse; this is simply my inborn nature.

When I was little, my parents told me not to fidget and scurry about; in my youth, my friends told me I was impatient; and once I entered working life, my superiors told me to act with composure.

But now, I am fairly convinced—and not at all unhappy about it—that acting in a fidgety, scurrying, impatient way is my own composure, the very driving force that gives rise to new designs.