Quote

Our hearts are not stones. A stone may disintegrate in time and lose its outward form. But hearts never disintegrate. They have no outward form, and whether good or evil, we can always communicate them to one another.

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
Time
Evil
Outward
Another
Stone
Form
Communicate
May
Stones
Heart
Hearts
Good
Lose
Always
Loses
Never
Whether
Disintegrate

More quotes by Haruki Murakami

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Passion can’t sustain itself forever.
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George Orwell is half journalist, half fiction writer. I'm 100 percent fiction writer... I don't want to write messages. I want to write good stories. I think of myself as a political person, but I don't state my political messages to anybody.
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I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.
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Once she was out of the car and gone, my world was suddenly hollow and meaningless.
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What you see with your eyes is not necessarily real.
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The things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words.
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Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
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A deserted library in the morning - there's something about it that really gets to me. All possible words and ideas are there, resting peacefully.
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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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Understanding is but the sum of misunderstandings.
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When people tell a lie about something, they have to make up a bunch of lies to go with the first one. ‘Mythomania’ is the word for it.
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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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How many Sundays - how many hundreds of Sundays like this - lay ahead of me? “Quiet, peaceful, and lonely,” I said aloud to myself. On Sundays, I didn't wind my spring.
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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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When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
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Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas - none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bare it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't.
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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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Each person feels pain in his own way, each has his own scars.
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I move, therefore I am.
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