Haruki Murakami

“Maybe that's why people don't like you. You make it obvious you don't care whether people like you or not. That makses some people angry.”

“It's basically the same in all periods of societies. If you belong to the majority, you can avoid thinking about lots of troubling things.''And those troubling things are all you /can/ think about when you're one of the few.''That's about the size of it,' she said mournfully. 'But maybe, if you're in a situation like that, you learn to think for yourself.''Yes, but maybe what you end up thinking for yourself /about/ is all those troubling things.”

“Like it or not, it's the society we live in. Even the standard of right and wrong has been subdivided, made sophisticated. Within good, there's fashionable good and unfashionable good, and ditto for bad. Within fashionable good, there's formal and then there's casual; there's hip, there's cool, there's trendy, there's snobbish. Mix 'n' match.”

“Trouble is we end up being worse at saying things well. It's got to be an inborn fault. Naturally, everyone's got faults. My biggest fault is that the faults i was born with grow bigger each year.”

“The ocean was one of the greatest things he had ever seen in his life—bigger and deeper than anything he had imagined. It changed its color and shape and expression according to time and place and weather. It aroused a deep sadness in his heart, and at the same time it brought his heart peace and comfort.”

“I always feel as if I'm struggling to become someone else. As if I'm trying to find a new place, grab hold of a new life, a new personality. I suppose it's part of growing up, yet it's also an attempt to re-invent myself. By becoming a different me, I could free myself of everything. I seriously believed I could escape myself - as long as I made the effort. But I always hit a dead end. No matter where I go, I still end up me. What's missing never changes. The scenery may change, but I'm still the same old incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that I can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as I'll come to defining myself.”

“En este mundo hay cosas que sólo puedes hacer sola y cosas que sólo puedes hacer con otra persona. Es importante ir combinando las unas con las otras.”

“I can be hurt, you know. I can get as exhausted as anybody else. I can feel so bad I want to cry, too.”

“Find me now. Before someone else does.”

“You know, Junpei, everything in the world has its reasons for doing what it does.”

“Nobody chooses to evolve. It's like floods and avalanches and earthquakes. You never know what's happening until they hit, then it's too late.”

“Everybody has to start somewhere. You have your whole future ahead of you. Perfection doesn't happen right away.”

“What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know.”

“Life is frightening.”

“But if I’m with you, I’m not afraid.”

“I love you, I really do.”

“I can stab myself, but I can’t reach the knife to pull it out. And then everything starts to disappear. I start to fade away, too. Only the knife is always there— to the very end.”

“Occasionally, someone coughed with a dry rasp that sounded like a mummy tapped on the head with a pair of tongs.”

“Sometimes when I think of life, I feel like a piece of driftwood washed up on shore.”

“Sometimes I run fast when I feel like it, but if I increase the pace I shorten the amount of time I run, the point being to let the exhilaration I feel at the end of each run carry over to the next day. This is the same sort of tack I find necessary when writing a novel. I stop every day right at the point where I feel I can write more. Do that, and the next day's work goes surprisingly smoothly. I think Ernest Hemingway did something like that. To keep on going, you have to keep up the rhythm. This is the important thing for long-term projects. Once you set the pace, the rest will follow. The problem is getting the flywheel to spin at a set speed-and to get to that point takes as much concentration and effort as you can manage.”

“That's how people live in the real world: forcing stuff on each other.”

“Nos cœurs ne sont pas de pierre. Les pierres peuvent s’effondrer et se briser, perdre leur forme. Mais le cœur ne peut pas s’effondrer. Le cœur n’a pas de forme mais il peut se propager à l’infini.”

“The things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words.”

“Eres muy bonita, Midori -corregí. ¿Cuánto? Tan bonita como para hacer que las montañas se derrumben y el mar se seque”

“It wasn't like there was some obvious change. Actually, the problem was more a lack of change. Nothing about her had changed - the way she spoke, her clothes, the topics she chose to talk about, her opinions - they were all the same as before. Their relationship was like a pendulum gradually grinding to a halt, and he felt out of synch.”

“He sometimes wondered if she had become involved with him just so that she could cry in someone's arms. Maybe she can't cry alone, and that's why she needs me.”

“But that was the last time. That was…how should I say it? ... the one moment in my life when I was able to draw closest to Eri ... the one moment when she and I joined heart to heart as one: there was nothing separating us. After that, it seems, we grew further and further apart. We separated, and before long we were living in different worlds. That sense of union I felt in the darkness of the lift, that strong bond between our hearts, never came back again. I don't know what went wrong, but we were never able to go back to where we started from.”

“I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. And killing time is one of my specialities.”

“Her pupils have taken on a lonely hue, like grey clouds reflected in a calm lake.”

“Doch in ihren Fingerspitzen spürt sie nichts als den unendlichen Durst ihres Herzens.”

“Her dizziness has faded, but the rocking sensation continues. She feels as if her footing has been swept out from under her. Her body's interior has lost all necessary weight and is becoming a cavern. Some kind of hand is deftly stripping away everything that has constituted her as Eri until now: the organs, the senses, the muscles, the memories. She knows she will end up as a mere convenient conduit used for the passage of external things. Her flesh creeps with the overwhelming sense of isolation this gives her. I hate this! she screams. I don't want to he changed this way! But her intended scream never emerges. All that leaves her throat in reality is a fading whimper.”

“To understand something and to put that something into a form that you can see with your own eyes are two completely different things. If you could manage to do both equally well, living would be a lot simpler (from Honey Pie)”

“My enemy is, among other things, the me inside me. Inside me is the un-me”

“Mutual understanding is of critical importance. There are those who say that ‘understanding’ is merely the sum total of our misunderstandings”

“I find writing novels a challenge, writing stories a joy. If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden.”

“Rào mắt cáo bao quanh ngôi nhà không ở có một cánh cổng cũng mắt cáo. Tôi thử đẩy. Nó mở ra dễ dàng đến mức hầu như khiến mình mất hứng, như thể nó giục tôi vào vậy. “Không sao đâu, cứ đi thẳng vào”, dường như nó bảo tôi thế. Tuy nhiên, không cần học luật tám năm trời tôi cũng biết rằng đường đột vào nhà người khác, cho dù nhà không người ở, là phạm pháp. Nếu một người hàng xóm phát hiện thấy tôi trong căn nhà không người ở và báo cảnh sát, họ sẽ xộc tới tra hỏi ngay. Tôi sẽ nói rằng tôi đi tìm mèo; nó đi đâu mất, tôi đang tìm nó khắp các nhà hàng xóm. Họ sẽ yêu cầu cho biết địa chỉ và nghề nghiệp. Tôi sẽ phải bảo họ tôi đang thất nghiệp. Họ sẽ chỉ càng nghi ngờ hơn. Gần đây cảnh sát đang lo sốt vó về những tên khủng bố cánh tả; họ đinh ninh rằng chúng nhan nhản khắp nơi ở Tokyo, chúng giấu hàng kho súng và lựu đạn tự chế. Họ sẽ gọi điện cho đến văn phòng Kumiko để kiểm chứng những gì tôi nói. E rằng Kumiko sẽ rất buồn phiền.Thế nhưng tôi vẫn vào. Vào rồi khép cổng lại sau lưng. Chuyện gì tới, cứ tới. Nếu chuyện gì đó đã muốn xảy ra, cứ để nó xảy ra.”

“My experience tells me that we get no more than two or three such chances in a lifetime, and if we let them go, we regret it for the rest of our lives.”

“As usual, Junko thought about Jack London's 'To Build a Fire.' It was the story of a man traveling alone through the snowy Alaskan interior and his attempts to light a fire. He would freeze to death unless he could make it catch. The sun was going down. Junko hadn't read much fiction, but that one short story she had read again and again, ever since her teacher had assigned it as an essay topic during summer vacation of her first year in high school. The scene of the story would always come vividly to mind as she read. She could feel the man's fear and hope and despair as if they were her own; she could sense the very pounding of his heart as he hovered on the brink of death. Most important of all, though, was the fact that the man was fundamentally longing for death. She knew that for sure. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she knew it from the start. Death was really what he wanted. He knew that it was the right ending for him. And yet he had to go on fighting with all his might. He had to fight against an overwhelming adversary in order to survive. What most shook Junko was this deep-rooted contradiction.The teacher ridiculed her view. 'Death is really what he wanted? That's a new one for me! And strange! Quite 'original,' I'd have to say.' He read her conclusion aloud before the class, and everybody laughed.But Junko knew. All of them were wrong. Otherwise how could the ending of the story be so quiet and beautiful?”

“Probably.""Again with the probablys.""A world full of probablys," she said.”

“The feel of her hand has never left me. It was different from any other hand I'd ever held, different from any touch I've ever known. It was merely the small, warm hand of a twelve-year-old girl, yet those five fingers and that palm were like a display case crammed full of everything I wanted to know--and everything I had to know. By taking my hand, she showed me what these things were. That within the real world, a place like this existed. In the space of those ten seconds I became a tiny bird, fluttering into the air, the wind rushing by. From high in the sky I could see a scene far away. It was so far off I couldn't make it out clearly, yet something was there, and I knew that someday I would travel to that place.”

“Like flowers scattered in a storm, a man's life is a long farewell.”

“I'm not saying it isn't habit forming, but it's much milder than tobacco, alcohol, or cocaine. Law enforcement says it's addictive, but that's ridiculous. If you believe that, then pachinko is far more dangerous.”

“And then, inside me, the axis of time gave one great heave.”

“A few gray cotton chunks of cloud hung there, motionless.”

“Whenever I got home late, I'd always go to my son's room first, to see his sleeping face. Sometimes I was seized by a desire to squeeze him so hard he might break.”

“Everyone lets their hair down here.”

“It was merely the small, warm hand of a twelve-year-old girl, yet those five fingers and that palm were like a display case crammed full of everything I wanted to know--and everything I had to know. By taking my hand, she showed me what these things were. That within the real world, a place like this existed. In the space of those ten seconds I became a tiny bird, fluttering into the air, the wind rushing by. From high in the sky I could see a scene far away. It was so far off I couldn't make it out clearly, yet something was there, and I knew that someday I would travel to that place.”

“In a few minutes I'm going to swim .93 miles, ride a bike 24.8 miles, then run a final 6.2 miles. And what's all that supposed to prove? How is this any different from pouring water in an old pan with a tiny hole in the bottom?”

“I mean, you’re such a supernormal guy, but you do such unnormal things.”

“And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love. ”