Quotes from Haruki Murakami

Abundant talent is like a rich vein of water underground that finds all sorts of places to gush forth(..)

Crying for someone else is nothing to apologize about," I told him. "Especially someone you care for, someone who's passed away

I don't want to overestimate myself. Basically I've been lucky. I'm simply a polite, lucky man. That might be the best way to think of it.

Sunlight traveled a long distance to reach this planet; an infinitesimal portion of that energy was enough to warm my eyelids. I was moved. That something as insignificant as an eyelid had its place in the workings of the universe, that the cosmic order did not overlook this momentary fact.

I'm caught between one void and another. I have no idea what's right, what's wrong. I don't even know what I want any more.

No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength.

Violence does not always take physical form, and not all wounds gush blood.

Cuando leo un libro malo,tengo la sensación de haber malgastado el tiempo. Y eso me decepciona. Antes no me sucedía. Disponía de mucho tiempo y, aunque pensara: «¡Vaya tontería acabo de leer!», siempre tenía la impresión de que algo habría sacado de allí. Dentro de lo que cabía, claro. Pero ahora no. Sólo pienso que he perdido el tiempo. Quizá tenga que ver con hacerse viejo.

Outside was pitch black. So black I felt morning might never arrive, not for all eternity.

She looks like a symbol of something. A certain time, a certain place. A certain state of mind. She's like a spirit that's sprung up from a happy chance encounter. An eternal, naive innocence, never to be marred, floats around her like spores in spring.

Even after the ringing stopped, the sound of the bell lingered through the evening gloom like the dust floating in the air.

There are plenty of things in history that are best left in the shadows. Accurate knowledge does not improve people's lives. The objective does not necessarily surpass the subjective, you know. Reality does not necessarily extinguish fantasy.

The absence of conversation didn't bother Kafuku. He wasn't good at small talk. While he didn't dislike talking to people he knew well about things that mattered, he otherwise preferred to remain silent.

Looking at her nails, Aomame had a strong sense of what a fragile, fleeting thing her own existance was. Something as simple as the shape of her fingernails: it had been decided without her.

There are things in his world it is better not to know about. Of course, those are the very things that people most want to know about.

For her, loneliness is something you have others remove for you. And once it's gone, everything's okay. Doesn't go any further. I can't live that way.

The ones who did it can always rationalize their actions and even forget what they did. They can turn away from things they don't want to see. But the surviving victims can never forget. They can't turn away. Their memories are passed on from parent to child. That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.

Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene, I hardly paid it any mind. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that eighteen years later I would recall it in such detail.

That's right," Kafuku said. "Whether you want to or not. But the place you return to is always slightly different from the place you left. That's the rule. It can never be exactly the same.

Sometimes, in this multifaceted world of ours, inconsistency can be more eloquent than consistency.

She could not help but feel that paying money to take ownership of a living organism was inappropriate.

Everything about the restaurant is anonymous and interchangeable. And almost every seat is filled.

can barely recall it myself. How much did I suffer? How much pain did I go through? I wish there was a machine that could accurately measure sadness, and display it in numbers that you could record. And it would be great if that machine could fit in the palm of your hand. I think of this every time I measure the air in my tires.

Or maybe the ... shock of it started me covering up all kinds of memories the way a squirrel hides a nut and forgets where he's buried it.