The silence grew deeper, so deep that if you listened carefully you might very well catch the sound of the earth revolving on its axis.
The silence grew deeper, so deep that if you listened carefully you might very well catch the sound of the earth revolving on its axis.
As with marathon runs and lengths of toilet paper, there had to be standards to measure up to.
Never trust a man who carries a handkerchief, I always say. One of many prejudicial rules of thumb.
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.
Does G get angry because it follows F in the alphabet? Does page 68 in a book start a revolution because it follows 67?
I've built a wall around me, never letting anybody inside and trying not to venture outside myself
My grandpa always said asking a question is embarrassing for a moment, but not asking is embarrassing for a lifetime.
The strength I'm looking for isn't the type where you win or lose. I'm not after a wall that'll repel power coming from outside. What I want us the kind of strength to be able to absorb that kind of power, to stand up to it.The strength to quietly endure things - unfairness, misfortunes, sadness, mistakes, misunderstandings.
But no one was asking me. I was here to do a job, and gray steel lockers or pale peach jukebox was no business of mine.
Now for a good twelve-hour sleep, I told myself. Twelve solid hours. Let birds sing, let people go to work. Somewhere out there, a volcano might blow, Israeli commandos might decimate a Palestinian village. I couldn't stop it. I was going to sleep.
A strange, terrific force unlike anything I've ever experienced is sprouting in my heart, taking root there, growing. Shut up behind my rib cage, my warm heart expands and contracts independent of my will--over and over.
Each person feels pain in his own way, each has his own scars.
If I listen to some utterly perfect performance of an utterly perfect piece while I'm driving, I might want to close my eyes and die right then and there. But listening to the D major, I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of - that a certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. And personally, I feel that encouraging. Do you know what I'm getting at?
Nakata's empty inside... Do you know what it means to be completely empty? Being empty is like a vacant house. An unlocked, vacant house. Anybody can come in, anytime they want. That's what scares me the most
The weather service reported that there weren't any atmospheric conditions present that might have led to fish raining from the sky.
Everyone may be ordinary, but they're not normal.
Open your eyes, train your ears, use your head. If a mind you have, then use it while you can.
A theory is a battlefield in your head.
Even chance meetings are the result of karma… Things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there's no such thing as coincidence.
If you think God's there, He is. If you don't, He isn't. And if that's what God's like, I wouldn't worry about it.
Our responsibility begins with our imagination.
There's an essential order you have to follow in everything. It's a way of showing respect, following everything in the correct order.
Everything, everything seemed once-upon-a-time.
The best musicians transpose consciousness into sound; painters do the same for color and shape.
Ang mga alaala ang nagbibigay init sa iyong kalooban, ngunit ito rin ang makakapagpawasak sayo.
Everything in life is a metaphor.
If you try to use your head to think about things, people don't want to have anything to do with you
People are by and large a product of where they were born and raised. How you think and feel's always linked to the lie of the land, the temperature. The prevailing winds, even.
Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside.
It is hard to be an individual in Japan.
In Japan they prefer the realistic style. They like answers and conclusions, but my stories have none. I want to leave them wide open to every possibility. I think my readers understand that openness.
When I write about a 15-year old, I jump, I return to the days when I was that age. It's like a time machine. I can remember everything. I can feel the wind. I can smell the air. Very actually. Very vividly.
I didn't want to be a writer, but I became one. And now I have many readers, in many countries. I think that's a miracle. So I think I have to be humble regarding this ability. I'm proud of it and I enjoy it, and it is strange to say it this way, but I respect it.
Most young people were getting jobs in big companies, becoming company men. I wanted to be individual.
Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live.
As a writer, I felt it necessary to raise the alarm that a rampant, clandestine and unlawful trade in original manuscripts exists.
In principle, ownership of handwritten documents lies with the author. A large number of my manuscripts have been leaked and are now missing. These are stolen items of sorts, because they were taken without permission and sold for financial gain.
I lost some of my friends because I got so famous, people who just assumed that I would be different now. I felt like everyone hated me. That is the most unhappy time of my life.
Original manuscripts are private information. Like personal letters, there are parts I don't want other people to see.
There's no such thing as perfect writing, just like there's no such thing as perfect despair.
You are 27 or 28 right? It is very tough to live at that age. When nothing is sure. I have sympathy with you.
I am 55 years old now. It takes three years to write one book. I don't know how many books I will be able to write before I die. It is like a countdown. So with each book I am praying - please let me live until I am finished.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories