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When I was little, I had this science book. There was a section on 'What would happen to the world if there was no friction?' Answer: 'Everything on earth would fly into space from the centrifugal force of revolution.' That was my mood.

Haruki Murakami

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Haruki Murakami
Age: 75
Born: 1949
Born: January 12
Athletics Competitor
Essayist
Linguist
Novelist
Prosaist
Science Fiction Writer
Translator
University Teacher
Writer
Kyōto
Murakami Haruki
Everything
Happen
Centrifugal
Book
Space
Friction
Would
Force
Section
World
Science
Sections
Happens
Mood
Earth
Answer
Littles
Revolution
Little
Answers

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If I choose to write about sheep, it's just because I happened to write about sheep. There is no deep significance.
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With each passing moment I'm becoming part of the past. There is no future for me, just the past steadily accumulating.
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Knowledge and ability were tools, not things to show off.
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You make do with what you have. As you age you learn even to be happy with what you have.
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One last word of advice, though, Mr. Okada, though you may not want to hear this. There are things in this world it is better not to know about. Of course, those are the very things that people most want to know about. It's strange.
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An expectation was there, mixed in with so many other emotions - excitement, resignation, hesitation, confusion, fear - that would well up then wither on the vine. You're optimistic one moment, only to be racked the next by the certainty that it will all fall to pieces. And in the end it does.
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Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.
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A theory is a battlefield in your head.
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We were, the two of us, still fragmentary beings, just beginning to sense the presence of an unexpected, to be-aquired reality that would fill us and make us whole.
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You're walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, 'Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?' So you and the bear spend the whole day in each other's arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh?
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The silence grew deeper, so deep that if you listened carefully you might very well catch the sound of the earth revolving on its axis.
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Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.
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By then running had entered the realm of the metaphysical. First there came the action of running, and accompanying it there was this entity known as me. I run therefore I am.
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Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only arseholes do that.
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Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life
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My shadow is only half of what it should be. Everyone has their shortcomings.
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Most people are not looking for provable truths. As you said, truth is often accompanied by intense pain, and almost no one is looking for painful truths. What people need is beautiful, comforting stories that make them feel as if their lives have some meaning. Which is where religion comes from.
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Time, of course, topples everyone in its path equally- the way that driver beats his old horse until it dies. But the thrashing we receive is one of frightful gentleness. Few of us even realize that we are being beaten.
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No matter what form the relationship might take, he was the only person she could picture sharing her life with.
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It's a terrible thing when a person dies, whatever the circumstances. A hole opens up in the world, and we need to pay the proper respects. If we don't, the hole will never be filled in again.
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