The human heart is like a night bird. Silently waiting for something, and when the time comes, it flies straight toward it.Haruki Murakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki And His Years of Pilgrimage (via jiojared)
It’s sort of weird if you think about it," Sara said. "We live in a pretty apathetic age, yet we’re surrounded by an enormous amount of information about other people. If you feel like it, you can easily gather that information about them. Having said that, we still hardly know anything about people.Haruki Murakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Date a girl who reads, they say.
I say date a girl who reads naked.
I have no sense of self. I have no personality, no brilliant color. I have nothing to offer. That’s always been my problem. I feel like an empty vessel. I have a shape, I guess, as a container, but there’s nothing inside.”…”Let’s say you are an empty vessel. So what? What’s wrong with that?” Eri said. “You’re still a wonderful, attractive vessel. And really, does anybody know who they are? So why not be a completely beautiful vessel? The kind people feel good about, the kind people want to entrust with precious belongings.Haruki Murakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
I like to write. I like to choose the right word, I like to write the right sentence. It’s just like gardening or something. You put the seed into the soil at the right time, in the right place.Haruki Murakami - The Guardian
Norwegian Wood (2010) “Noruwei no mori”
dir. Tran Anh Hung
No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself - After the Quake
I bought this beautiful book today.
Jealousy - at least as far as he understand it from his dream - was the most hopeless prison in the world. Jealousy was not a place he was forced into by someone else, but a jail in which the inmate entered voluntarily, locked the door, and threw away the key. And not another soul in the world knew he was locked inside. Of course if he wanted to escape, he could do so. The prison was, after all, his own heart. But he couldn’t make that decision. His heart was as hard as a stone wall. This was the very essence of jealousy.Haruki Murakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage