Haruki Murakami: Likeness (page 3)

“The journey I'm taking is inside me. Just like blood travels down veins, what I'm seeing is my inner self and what seems threatening is just the echo of the fear in my heart.”

“Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.”

“Everyone just keeps on disappearing. Some things vanish, like they were cut away. Others fade slowly into the mist. And all that remains is a desert.”

“For a certain kind of person, love begins from something tiny or silly.
From something like that or it doesn't begin at all.”

“I didn't feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing.”

“Memory is so crazy! It's like we've got these drawers crammed with tons of useless stuff. Meanwhile, all the really important things we just keep forgetting, one after the other.”

“Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness without beginning or end.”

“I'll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel”

“When it's raining like this," said Naoko, "it feels as if we're the only ones in the world. I wish it would just keep raining so the three of us could stay together.”

“I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas - if I like these things, why should I apologize?”

“Aren't you afraid of dying?
Not really. I've watched lots of good-for-nothing, worthless people die, and if people like that can do it, then I should be able to handle it.”

“I used to think the years would go by in order, that you get older one year at a time. But it's not like that. It happens overnight.”

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

“I feel like I've swallowed a cloudy sky”

“The human heart is like a night bird. Silently waiting for something, and when the time comes, it flies straight toward it.”

“In the end, like so many beautiful promises in our lives, that dinner date never came to be.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I don't want our relationship to end like this. You're one of the very few friends I have, and it hurts not being able to see you. When am I going to be able to talk to you? I want you to tell me that much, at least.”