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My father always told me: 'Give somebody a hand and he'll take an arm.

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
Give
Take
Giving
Arms
Always
Told
Somebody
Hand
Father
Hands

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I want to believe you, but if that's true, I just don't get it. Why does loving somebody mean you have to hurt them just as much? I mean, if that's the way it goes, what's the point of loving someone?
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Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in flight, searching the skies for dreams.
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Only the dead stay seventeen forever.
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There's no war that will end all wars.
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I didn't want to be a writer, but I became one. And now I have many readers, in many countries. I think that's a miracle. So I think I have to be humble regarding this ability. I'm proud of it and I enjoy it, and it is strange to say it this way, but I respect it.
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I didn't have much to say to anybody but kept to myself and my books. With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw it's fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.
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What was lost was lost. There was no retrieving it, however you schemed, no returning to how things were, no going back.
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Something in her small eyes caught the sunlight and glistened, like a glacier on the faraway face of a mountain.
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With the advent of winter, her eyes seemed to take on a greater transparency, a transparency that lead nowhere. Occassionally, for no particular reason, Naoko would gaze into my eyes as if searching for something. Each time I was filled with odd sensations of lonliness and inadequecy.
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You know what I should do? Hoshino asked excited. Of course, the cat said. What'd I tell you? Cats know everything. Not like dogs.
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The years nineteen and twenty are a crucial stage in the maturation of character, and if you allow yourself to become warped when you're that age, it will cause you pain when you're older.
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If you do anything out of the ordinary, you can be sure someone, somewhere, will get upset.
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You know, eating's much more important than most people think. There comes a time in your life when you've just got to have something super-delicious. And when you're standing at that crossroads your whole life can change, depending on which one you go into - the good restaurant or the awful one.
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Why do I act like this, agreeing when I really disagree, letting people force me to do things I don't want to do?
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Whiskey, like a beautiful woman, demands appreciation. You gaze first, then it's time to drink.
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Then when dusk began to settle he would retrace his steps, back to his own world. And on the way home, a loneliness would always claim his heart. He could never quite get a grip on what it was. It just seemed that whatever lay waiting out there was all too vast, too overwhelming for him to possibly ever make a dent in.
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Each person feels pain in his own way, each has his own scars.
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People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.
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