Quotes from Haruki Murakami

My life ended when I was 20. Since then it's been merely a series of endless reminiscences, a dark, winding corridor leading nowhere. Nevertheless, I had to live it, surviving each empty day, seeing each day off still empty.

Certain kinds of information are like smoke: they work their way into people's eyes and minds whether sought out or not, and with no regard to personal preference.

To tell you the truth, sleepless nights are as unusual for me as sumo wrestlers who look good in berets.

People are weak when they are alone.

Yo no soy tan fuerte. A mi me importa que me entiendan. Hay personas a quienes quiero comprender y quiero que me comprendan. Hasta cierto punto, pienso que es inevitable que el resto de la gnete no lo haga. Ya me he hecho a la idea. Así que no me ocurre lo mismo que a Nagasawa, a quien no le importa que no le entiendan.

We were merely observers, getting totally absorbed in some exciting movie, our palms all sweaty, only to find that, after the houselights came on and we exited the theater, the thrilling afterglow that coursed through us ultimately meant nothing whatsoever.

Everything was too sharp and clear, so that I could never tell where to start - the way a map that shows to much can sometimes be useless. Now, though I realize that all I can place in the imperfect vessel of writing are imperfect memories and imperfect thoughts.

Somos seres imperfectos que vivimos en un mundo imperfecto

There are things in this world you can't do a damn thing about." "Like what?" "Like a rotten tooth, for example. One day it just starts aching. No one can ease the pain, no matter how hard they try to comfort you. It makes you furious with yourself. Next thing you know you're furious with them because they aren't pissed off with themselves. See how it escalates?

If people lived forever—if they never got any older—if they could just go on living in this world, never dying, always healthy—do you think they'd bother to think hard about things, the way were doing now? I mean, we think about its everything, more or less—philosophy, psychology, logic. Religion. Literature. I kinda think, if there were no such t hing as death, the complicated thoughts and ideas like that would never come into the world.

I forced words out: There are some things about myself I can't explain to anyone. There are some things I don't understand at all. I can't tell what I think about things or what I'm supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail, the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared , I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I'm not such a wonderful human being.

I can't read, can't listen to music. I can't do anything but just sit there, waiting for morning to come.

I don't know , sometimes I think I've got this hard kernel in my heart, and nothing much can get inside it. I doubt if I can really love anybody.

Pain is invisible, and known only to the sufferer.

Why do you guys all think girls with long hair are the classiest, the sweetest, the most feminine? I mean, I myself know at least two hundred and fifty unclassy girls with long hair.

All he felt was sorrow, as if he'd been abandoned at the bottom of a deep, dark pit. That's all it was—sorrow. That, and simple physical pain.

When granted hope, a person uses it as fuel, as a guidepost to life. It is impossible to live without hope.

I do feel that I've managed to make something I could maybe call my own world ... over time ... little by little. And when I'm inside it, to some extent, I feel kind of relieved. But the very fact I felt I had to make such a world probably means that, I am a weak person, that I bruise easily, don't you think? And in the eyes of society at large, that world of mine is a puny little thing.

I turned to run, but I didn't actually take a step, even though I wanted to. That wasn't the way I was raised. My mother taught me that if you knock on a door, you have to wait there until someone answers.

Civilization is communication," the doctor said. "That which is not expressed doesn't exist.

For me, it was a lonely season. Whenever I got home and took off my clothes, I felt as if any second my bones would burst through my skin. Like some unknown force inside me had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and was leading me off in some strange direction to another world

It's the same as a hereditary disease, weakness. No matter how much you understand it, there's nothing you can do to cure yourself. It's not going to go away with a clap of the hand. It just keeps getting worse and worse

After you pass a certain age, things you were able to do easily aren't so easy anymore — just as a fastball pitcher's speed starts to slip away with time. Of course, it's possible for people as they mature to make up for a decline in natural talent. Like when a fastball pitcher transforms himself into a cleverer pitcher who relies on changeups. But there is a limit. And there definitely is a sense of loss.

As you may know, in this Town, memory is unreliable and uncertain. There are things we can remember and things we cannot remember.