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How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly marvelous.

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
Someone
Pick
Persons
Picks
Able
Letters
Conveying
Person
Truly
Desk
Feel
Thoughts
Desks
Feels
Wonderful
Pens
Writing
Words
Marvelous
Like
Write
Letter

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Nothing so consumes a person as meaningless exertion
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My grandpa always said asking a question is embarrassing for a moment, but not asking is embarrassing for a lifetime.
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The pillow smells like the sunlight, a precious smell.
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Adults need more complex narratives. They have their own narratives. The main characters are themselves.
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One of these days they'll be making a film where the whole human race gets wiped out in a nuclear war, but everything works out in the end.
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Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.
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Knowledge and ability were tools, not things to show off.
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Understanding' is merely the sum total of our misunderstandings.
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In dreams you don't need to make any distinctions between things. Not at all. Boundaries don't exist. So in dreams there are hardly ever collisions. Even if there are, they don't hurt. Reality is different. Reality bites. Reality, reality.
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But what seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else.
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When I was fifteen, all I wanted was to go off to some other world, a place beyond anybody’s reach. A place beyond the flow of time.” - But there’s no place like that in this world. - Exactly. Which is why I’m living here, in this world where things are continually damaged, where the heart is fickle, where time flows past without a break.
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Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.
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