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Dreaming is the day job of novelists, but sharing our dreams is a still more important task for us. We cannot be novelists without this sense of sharing something.

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
Something
Sense
Cannot
Dreaming
Dream
Sharing
Stills
Novelists
Still
Task
Without
Tasks
Important
Dreams
Writing
Jobs

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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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My shadow is only half of what it should be. Everyone has their shortcomings.
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His heart, like mine, was ticking off the time allotted to his small restless body.
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...most people in the world don't really use their brains to think. And people who don't think are the ones who don't listen to others.
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Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the cavern.
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Not that we were incompatible: we just had nothing to talk about.
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The world would be a pretty dull place if it were made up only of the first-rate, right?
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It is hard to be an individual in Japan.
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That's the kind of death that frightens me. The shadow of death slowly, slowly eats away at the region of life, and before you know it everything's dark and you can't see, and the people around you think of you as more dead than alive.
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The best way to think about reality, I had decided, was to get as far away from it as possible.
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You have to make an effort to always look at the good side, always think about the good things. Then you've got nothing to be afraid of. If something bad comes up, you do more thinking at that point.
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Silence. How long it lasted, I couldn't tell. It might have been five seconds, it might have been a minute. Time wasn't fixed. It wavered, stretched, shrank. Or was it me that wavered, stretched, and shrank in the silence? I was warped in the folds of time, like a reflection in a fun house mirror.
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She was a keen observer, a precise user of language, sharp-tongued and funny. She could stir your emotions. Yes, really, that's what she was so good at - stirring people's emotions, moving you. And she knew she had this power...I only realized later. At the time, I had no idea what she was doing to me.
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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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Hatsumi had a pretty good idea that Nagasawa was sleeping around, but she never complained to him. She was seriously in love with him, but she never made demands. 'I don't deserve a girl like Hatsumi,' Nagasawa once said to me. I had to agree with him.
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The pillow smells like the sunlight, a precious smell.
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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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The power to concentrate was the most important thing. Living without this power would be like opening one’s eyes without seeing anything.
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So I made up my mind I was going to find someone who would love me unconditionally three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Watanabe: Wow, and did your search pay off? M: That's the hard part. I guess I've been waiting so long I'm looking for perfection. That makes it tough.
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Start making excuses and there's no end to it. I can't live that kind of life.
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