No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself. It’s like your shadow. It follows you everywhere. -Komura
Haruki MurakamiTag: travel yourself shadow runaway run-away
That's why I like listening to Schubert while I'm driving. Like I said, it's because all his performances are imperfect. A dense, artistic kind of imperfection stimulates your consciousness, keeps you alert. 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 find that encouraging.
Haruki MurakamiMostra la citazione in tedesco
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Those five fingers and that palm were like a display case crammed full of everything I wanted to know--and everything I had to know. By taking my hand, she showed me what these things were. That within the real world, a place like this existed. In the space of those ten seconds I became I tiny bird, fluttering in the air, the wind rushing by. From high in the sky I could see a scene far away. It was so far off I couldn't make it out clearly, yet something was there, and I knew that someday I would travel to that place.
Haruki MurakamiMostra la citazione in tedesco
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that one of our problems was our inability to recognize and accept our own deformities
Haruki MurakamiTag: norwegian-wood
Good style happens in one of two ways: the writer either has an inborn talent or is willing to work herself to death to get it.
Haruki MurakamiTag: writers
Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come.
Haruki MurakamiTag: end-of-the-world
If you ask me, any religion that takes the end of the world as one of its central tenets is more or less bogus. In my view, the only thing that ever ‘ends’ is the individual.
Haruki MurakamiTag: 1q84
He was going to die soon, you knew when you saw those eyes. There was no sign of life in his flesh, just the barest traces of what had once been a life. His body was like a dilapidated old house from which all furniture and fixtures have been removed and which awaited now only its final demolition.
Haruki MurakamiWhen the time comes, everybody’s got to end up where they belong. Only me, I didn’t have a place to call my own. It’s like musical chairs.
Haruki MurakamiAquilo que os nossos olhos vêem nem sempre corresponde à realidade.
Haruki MurakamiTag: haruki-murakami realidade aparências ilusão sputnik-meu-amor
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