Quote

Waves of thought are stirring. In a twilight corner of her consciousness, one tiny fragment and another tiny fragment call out wordlessly to eachother, their spreading ripples intermingling.

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
Corner
Ripples
Corners
Fragment
Wave
Ripple
Tiny
Spreading
Consciousness
Stirring
Call
Fragments
Another
Waves
Thought
Twilight
Wordlessly

More quotes by Haruki Murakami

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There has to be pain. That's the rule.
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While they're still alive, people can become ghosts.
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Once a guy starts using a wig, he has to keep using one. It's, like, his fate. That's why wig makers make such huge profits. I hate to say it, but they're like drug dealers.
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Two-thirds of earth's surface is ocean, and all we can see with the naked eye is the surface.
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Not just beautiful, though--the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me.
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Now for a good twelve-hour sleep, I told myself. Twelve solid hours. Let birds sing, let people go to work. Somewhere out there, a volcano might blow, Israeli commandos might decimate a Palestinian village. I couldn't stop it. I was going to sleep.
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What do you think? I'm not a starfish or a pepper tree. I'm a living, breathing human being. Of course I've been in love.
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I myself have been on my own and utterly independent since I graduated. I haven't belonged to any company or any system. It isn't easy to live like this in Japan.
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So this was how secrets got started, I thought to myself. People constructed them little by little.
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I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
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It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of outer space. The dark, lustrous eyes of the dog gazing out the tiny window. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could the dog possibly be looking at?
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As long as I was alive, I was something. That was just how it was. But somewhere along the way it all changed. Living turned me into nothing.
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she was beautiful and seemingly quite intelligent, what with her pentameter search system. There wasn't a reason in the world not to find her appealing.
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What gave money its true meaning was its dark-night namelessness, its breathtaking interchangeability.
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Writing talent is similar to the art of chatting up a girl. You can improve to a certain degree through practice, but basically you are either born with it or you aren't.
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In terms of evolutionary history, it was only yesterday that men learned to walk around on two legs and get in trouble thinking complicated thoughts. So don't worry, you'll burn out.
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I collect records. And cats. I don't have any cats right now. But if I'm taking a walk and I see a cat, I'm happy.
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As a novelist, you could say that I am dreaming while I am awake, and every day I can continue with yesterday's dream. Because it is a dream, there are so many contradictions and I have to adjust them to make the story work. But, in principle, the original dream does not change.
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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.
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A person learns how to love himself through the simple acts of loving and being loved by someone else.
Haruki Murakami