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It's good when food tastes good, it's kind of like proof you're alive.

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
Tastes
Proof
Taste
Food
Alive
Kind
Good
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More quotes by Haruki Murakami

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The young man knows that he is irretrievably lost. This is no town of cats, he finally realizes. It is the place where he is meant to be lost. It is another world, which has been prepared especially for him. And never again, for all eternity, will the train stop at this station to take him back to the world he came from.
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I've run the Boston Marathon 6 times before. I think the best aspects of the marathon are the beautiful changes of the scenery along the route and the warmth of the people's support. I feel happier every time I enter this marathon.
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What gave money its true meaning was its dark-night namelessness, its breathtaking interchangeability.
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I love pop culture -- the Rolling Stones, the Doors, David Lynch, things like that. That's why I said I don't like elitism.
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Everything in life is a metaphor.
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It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
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No one could say how long that life would last. Whatever has form can disappear in an instant.
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People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.
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Open your eyes, train your ears, use your head. If a mind you have, then use it while you can.
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Don't let thoughts of me hold you back. Just do what you want to do. Otherwise, I might end up taking you with me, and that is the one thing I don't want to do. I don't want to interfere with your life.
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Possibilities are like cancer. The more I think about them, the more they multiply, and there's no way to stop them. I'm out of control.
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The rain that fell on the city runs down the dark gutters and empties into the sea without even soaking the ground
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Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
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It was a strange feeling, like touching a void.
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Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person’s heart and dissolve it.
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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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Like most novelists, I like to do exactly the opposite of what I'm told. It's in my nature as a novelist. Novelists can't trust anything they haven't seen with their own eyes or touched with their own hands.
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What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know.
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He was silent for thirty seconds, maybe a minute. I uncrossed my legs under the table and wondered if this was the right moment to leave. It was as if my whole life revolved around trying to judge the right point in a conversation to say goodbye.
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Whoa! he says with a smile. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen. Chicken salad a la George Orwell!
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