Haruki Murakami

“Las heridas emocionales son el precio que todos tenemos que pagar para ser independientes.”

“Nos movemos permanentemente. Y debido a ese movimiento nuestro, las cosas que nos rodean desaparecen. Es inevitable. Nada permanece. Tan sólo se quedan en nuestra conciencia. Pero desaparecen del mundo real.”

“My husband and I see each other only on weekends, and generally get along well. We're like good friends, life partners able to spend some pleasant time together. We talk about all sorts of things, and we trust each other implicitly. Where and how he has a sex life I don't know,and I don't really care. We never make love, though -- never even touch each other. I feel bad about it, but I don't want to touch him. I just don't want to.”

“She's always polite and kind, but her words lack the kind of curiosity and excitement you'd normally expect. Her true feelings- assuming such things exist- remain hidden away. Except for when a practical sort of decision has to be made, she never gives her personal opinion about anything. She seldom talks about herself, instead letting others talk, nodding warmly as she listens. But most people start to feel vaguely uneasy when talking with her, as if they suspect they're wasting her time, trampling on her private, graceful, dignified world. And that impression is, for the most part, correct.”

“Those are life-and-death-type experiences he goes through in the mines. Eventually he gets out and goes back to his old life. But nothing in the novel shows he learned anything from these experiences, that his life changed, that he thought deeply now about the meaning of life or started questioning society or anything. You don't get any sense, either, that he's matured. You have a strange feeling after you finish the book. It's like you wonder what Soseki was trying to say. It's like not really knowing what he's getting at is the part that stays with you.”

“I was feeling lonely without her, but the fact that I could feel lonely at all was consolation. Loneliness wasn't such a bad feeling. It was like the stillness of the pin oak after the little birds had flown off.”

“I turn a corner," I offered, "just as someone ahead of me turns the next corner. I can't see what that person looks like. All I can make out is a flash of white coattails. But the whiteness of the coattails is indelibly etched in my consciousness. Ever get that feeling?”

“nothing like that. it had more to do with his face. which, although presentable, gave me the feeling that his every expression had been thrown together on the spur of the moment. like mismatched dishes set out in make-do fashion on a party table.”

“The world’s crawling with stupid, innocent girls, and I’m just one of them, self-consciously chasing after dreams that will never come true.”

“Not being bored means not having to think about a lot of stupid stuff.”

“Six years during which time I'd laid three cats to rest. Burned how many aspirations, bundled up how much suffering in thick sweaters, and buried them in the ground. All in this fathomlessly huge city Tokyo.”

“There's no longer any place for a Big Brother in this real world of ours. Instead, these so-called Little People have come on the scene. Interesting verbal contrast, don't you think?”

“A morte existe não como contrário da vida mas como parte dela”

“No one split with confusion could possibly produce a reasonable conclusion.”

“Like it or not, I'm here now, in the year 1Q84. The 1984 that I knew no longer exists. It's 1Q84 now. The air has changed, the scene has changed. I have to adapt to this world-with-a-question-mark as soon as I can. Like an animal released into a new forest. In order to protect myself and survive, I have to learn the rules of this place and adapt myself to them.”

“Fate seems to be taking me in some even stranger directions.”

“Our city, these streets, I don't know why it makes me so depressed. That old familiar gloom that befalls the city dweller, regular as due dates, cloudy as mental Jell-O. The dirty facades, the nameless crowds, the unremitting noise, the packed rush-hour trains, the gray skies, the billboards on every square centimeter of available space, the hopes and resignation, irritation and excitement. And everywhere, infinite options, infinite possibilities. An infinity, and at the same time, zero. We try to scoop it all up in our hands, and what we get is a handful of zero.”

“The role of a story was, in the broadest terms, to transpose a single problem into another form. ... It was like a piece of paper bearing the indecipherable text of a magic spell.”

“Somehow the world survived the Nazis, the atomic bomb, and modern music”

“All efforts of reason and analysis are, in a word, like trying to slice through a watermelon with sewing needles. They may leave marks on the outer rind, but the fruity pulp will remain perpetually out of reach.”

“The leaders use their power to crush people's natural desire to think for themselves. It's foot binding for the brain.”

“How many times in her thirty years had she heard the same remarks, the same feeble jokes about her name?”

“Tell me something, Mari—do you believe in reincarnation?” Mari shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she says. “So you don’t think there’s a life to come?” “I haven’t thought much about it. But it seems to me there’s no reason to believe in a life after this one.” “So once you’re dead there’s just nothing?”“Basically.”“Well, I think there has to be something like reincarnation. Or maybe I should say I’m scared to think there isn’t. I can’t understand nothingness. I can’t understand it and I can’t imagine it.” “Nothingness means there’s absolutely nothing, so maybe there’s no need to understand it or imagine it.” “Yeah, but what if nothingness is not like that? What if it’s the kind of thing that demands that you understand it or imagine it? I mean, you don’t know what it’s like to die, Mari. Maybe a person really has to die to understand what it’s like.” “Well, yeah…,” says Mari. “I get so scared when I start thinking about this stuff,” Korogi says. “I can hardly breathe, and my whole body wants to shrink into a corner. It’s so much easier to just believe in reincarnation. You might be reborn as something awful, but at least you can imagine what you’d look like—a horse, say, or a snail. And even if it was something bad, you might be luckier next time.”

“Think it over carefully. This is very important," I say, "because to believe something, whatever it might be, is the doing of the mind. Do you follow? When you say you believe, you allow the possibility of disappointment. And from disappointment or betrayal, there may come despair. Such is the way of the mind.”

“If there's any guy crazy enough to attack me, I'm going to show him the end of the world -- close up. I'm going to let him see the kingdom come with his own eyes. I'm going to send him straight to the southern hemisphere and let the ashes of death rain all over him and the kangaroos and the wallabies.”

“When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.”

“I'm not trying to imply I can keep up this silent, isolated facade all the time.Sometimes the wall I've erected around me comes crumbling down. It doesn't happenvery often, but sometimes, before I even realize what's going on, there I am--naked anddefenseless and totally confused. At times like that I always feel an omen calling out tome, like a dark, omnipresent pool of water.~page 10”

“All's well that ends well.''Assuming there's an end somewhere,' Aomame said.Tamaru formed some short creases near his mouth that were faintly reminiscent of a smile. 'There has to be an end somewhere. It's just that nothing's labeled "This is the end." Is the top rung of a ladder labeled "This is the last rung. Please don't step higher than this'?"Aomame shook her head.'It's the same thing,' Tamaru said.Aomame said, 'If you use common sense and keep your eyes open, it becomes clear enough where the end is.'Tamaru nodded. 'And even if it doesn't' -- he made a falling gesture with his finger -- 'the end is right there.”

“Hace tiempo, cuando se estrenó Grupo salvaje, de Sam Peckinpah, en la rueda de prensa una periodista alzó la mano y preguntó en tono inquisitivo: «¿Qué necesidad creen que hay en mostrar tanta sangre?». Ernest Borgnine, uno de los actores, respondió con aire perplejó: «Pero, señora, es que, cuando te disparan, sangras». La película se filmó en plena época de la guerra del Vietnam.Me gusta esta frase. Posiblemente sea uno de los principios básicos de la realidad. Aceptar las cosas difíciles de desentrañar como cosas difíciles de desentrañar, aceptar el hecho de sangrar. Disparar y sangrar.Es que, cuando te disparan, sangras.”

“Sin embargo, la mayoría de las personas de este mundo no parece sentir ese temor, esa incertidumbre. En cuanto tienen oportunidad hablan de sí mismos con una sinceridad pasmosa. Suelen decir frases del tipo: «Yo parezco tonto de tan franco y sincero como soy», o «Soy muy sensible y me manejo muy mal en este mundo», o «Yo le leo el pensamiento a la gente». Pero he visto innumerables veces cómo personas “sensibles” herían sin más los sentimientos ajenos. He visto a personas “francas y sinceras” esgrimir sin darse cuenta las excusas que más les convenían. He visto cómo personas que “le leían el pensamiento a la gente” eran engañadas por los halagos más burdos. Todo ello me lleva a pensar: «¿Qué sabemos, en realidad, de nosotros mismos?».”

“And now I'm really, really, really tired and I want to fall asleep listening to someone tell me how much they like me and how pretty I am and stuff. That's all I want. And when I wake up, I'll be full of energy and I'll never make these kinds of selfish demands again. I swear. I'll be a good girl.”

“I don't know, I feel like this isn't the real world. The people, the scene: they just don't seem real to me.”

“These guys are fakes. All they've got on their minds is impressing the new girls with the big words they're so proud of, while sticking their hanse up their skirts. And when they graduate,they cut their hair short and march off to work for Mitsubishi or IBM or Fuji Bank. They marry pretty wives who've never read Marx and have kids they give fancy names to that are enough to make you puke. Smash what educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh!”

“I look around me sometimes and I get sick to my stomach. Why the hell don't these bastards do something? I wonder. They don't do a fucking thing, and then they moan about it.”

“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.”

“The best way to think about reality, I had decided, was to get as far away from it as possible.”

“Once you make up your mind to get rid of something, there’s very little you can’t discard. No – not very little. Once you put your mind to it, there’s nothing you can’t get rid of. And once you start tossing things out, you find yourself wanting to get rid of everything. It’s as if you’d gambled away almost all your money and decided, What the hell, I’ll bet what’s left. Too much trouble to cling to the rest”

“Reading aloud is different from just following sentences with your eyes. Something quite unexpected wells up in your mind, a kind of indefinable resonance that I find impossible to resist.”

“She and I were bound together at the border between life and death. It was like that for us from the start”

“Nonetheless, we can in the same breath deny that there is any such thing as coincidence. What's done is done, what's yet to be is clearly yet to be, and so on. In other words, sandwiched as we are between the ''everything'' that is behind us and the ''zero'' beyond us, ours is an ephemeral existence in which there is neither coincidence nor possibility.”

“Never really loved by anyone, never seeming really to love anyone either”

“What kind of world will be there tomorrow? "No one knows the answer to that," Fuka-Eri said.”

“Chắc là cô cũng có người trong mộng chứ""Vâng. Nhưng khả năng tôi và anh ấy có thể kết hợp gần như là bằng không[...]"Bà nhủ nheo mắt. " Có lý do cụ thể nào khiến cô cho rằng mình và anh ta không thể kết hợp?""Chẳng có lý do gì đặc biệt," Aomame đáp, "ngoại trừ việc tôi là chính bản thân tôi""Cô không hề có ý định tự mình tiến tới với anh ta phải không?"Aomame lắc đầu. "Đối với tôi, quan trọng nhất là cái sự thực rằng tôi cần anh ấy từ tận đáy lòng”

“The very thought of such people’s intolerant worldview, their inflated sense of self superiority, and their callous imposition of their own beliefs on others was enough to fill her with rage.”

“Violence does not always take physical form, and not all wounds gush blood.”

“Until that time, I had understood death as something entirely separate from and independent of life. The hand of death is about to take us, I had felt, but until the day it reaches out for us, it leaves us alone. This had seemed to me the simple, logical truth. Life is here, death is over there. I am here, not over there. That night Kizuki died, however, I lost the ability to see death (and life) in such simple terms. Death was not the opposite of life. It was already here, within my being, it had always been here, and no struggle would permit me to forget that. When it took the 17-year-old Kizuki that night in May, death took me as well.”

“The most important thing we ever learn at school is the fact that the most important things can't be learned at school.”

“Kitapus pievelės juodavo vėją užstojanti pušų giraitė, iš už kurios atsklisdavo bangų mūša. Nuožmių Ramiojo vandenyno bangų. Jos ošė sodriais ir niūriais balsais it daugybė susispietusių sielų, šnabždančių kiekviena savo istorijas. Ir atrodė, kad prisidėti prie šio choro ir papasakoti kitų istorijų trokšta dar daugiau sielų.”

“So ist das Leben. Wie schwer und tödlich unser Verlust auch sein mag, wie wichtig auch immer das, dessen wir beraubt wurden: wir leben einfach weiter. Selbst wenn nur noch die äußerste Schicht unserer Haut die gleiche geblieben ist und wir zu völlig anderen Menschen geworden sind, strecken wir die Hände nach der uns zugemessenen Zeit aus, holen sie ein und bringen sie schließlich hinter uns. Sooft ich darüber nachdenke, wie wir unermüdlich und meist ohne besonderes Geschick unsere alltäglichen Verrichtungen wiederholen, überkommt mich das Gefühl einer entsetzlichen Leere.”

“Becoming serious is not the same thing as approaching the truth”