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People soon get tired of things that aren't boring, but not of what is boring.

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
Boring
Tired
Soon
Aren
Things
People

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Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.
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It's just like sex when [a book is] finished, it's finished.
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I could disappear from the face of the earth, and the world would go on moving without the slightest twinge. Things were tremendously complicated, to be sure, but one thing was clear: no one needed me.
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A strange, terrific force unlike anything I've ever experienced is sprouting in my heart, taking root there, growing. Shut up behind my rib cage, my warm heart expands and contracts independent of my will--over and over.
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But if something did happen, it happened. Whether it's right or wrong. I accept everything that happens, and that's how I became the person I am now.
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No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away.
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Whether in music or in fiction, the most basic thing is rhythm. Your style needs to have good, natural, steady rhythm, or people won't keep reading your work.
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Still, in the end, we all die just the same.
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I didn't feel like I was in my own body my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing.
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I wonder what ants do on rainy days?
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...I've just been feeling insecure since I was 20, and that's all I've been trying to express. Now the entire world is feeling insecure.
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I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so they can hold the ones they love.
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A regular wind-up toy world this is, I think. Once a day the wind-up bird has to come and wind the springs of this world. Alone in this fun house, only I grow old, a pale softball of death swelling inside me. Yet even as I sleep somewhere between Saturn and Uranus, wind-up birds everywhere are busy at work fulfilling their appointed rounds.
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What the world needs is a set villain that people can point at and say, “It’s all your fault!
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Who can really distinguish between the sea and what's reflected in it? Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness?
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Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language.
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Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern.
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We knew exactly what we wanted in each other. And even so, it ended. One day it stopped, as if the film simply slipped off the reel.
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The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.
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Team sports aren't my thing. I find it easier to pick something up if I can do it at my own speed. And you don't need a partner to go running, you don't need a particular place, like in tennis, just a pair of trainers.
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