The most important thing we learn at school is the fact that the most important things can't be learned at school.
Haruki MurakamiWhat the hell kind of revolution have you got just tossing out big words that working-class people can't understand?
Haruki MurakamiBeyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.
Haruki MurakamiTag: world signs space emptiness substance chords edge loop
She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all.
Haruki MurakamiTag: love
she was beautiful and seemingly quite intelligent, what with her pentameter search system. There wasn't a reason in the world not to find her appealing.
Haruki Murakamipulled into my convenient neighborhood fast food restaurant. I ordered shrimp salad, onion rings, and a beer. The shrimp were straight out of the freezer, the onion rings soggy. Looking around the place, though, I failed to spot a single customer banging on a tray or complaining to a waitress. So I shut up and finished my food. Expect nothing, get nothing.
Haruki MurakamiHuge organizations and me don't get along. They're too inflexible, waste too much time, and have too many stupid people.
Haruki MurakamiI never trust people with no appetite. It's like they're always holding something back on you.
Haruki MurakamiOpen your eyes, train your ears, use your head. If a mind you have, then use it while you can.
Haruki MurakamiTag: mind
I clicked the gate shut and slipped down the alley. Through one fence after another, I caught glimpses of people in their dining rooms and living rooms, eating and watching TV dramas. Food smells drifted into the alley through kitchen windows and exhaust fans. One teenaged boy was practicing a fast passage on his electric guitar, with the volume turned down. In a second floor window, a tiny girl was studying at her desk, an earnest expression on her face. A married couple in a heated argument sent their voices out to the alley. A baby was screaming. A telephone rang. Reality spilled out into the alley like water from an overfilled bowl - as sound, as smell, as image, as plea, as response.
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