Haruki Murakami Quotes

Even if we could turn back, we'd probably never end up where we started.

I really like you, Midori. A lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Like a spring bear,” I said.
“A spring bear?” Midori looked up again. “What’s that all about? A spring bear.”
“You’re walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring, and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, “Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?’ So you and the bear cub spend the whole day in each other’s arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh?”
“Yeah. Really nice.”
“That’s how much I like you.

I'm a coward when it comes to matters of the heart. That is my fatal flaw.

Time moves in it special way in the middle of the night.

Even castles in the sky can do with a fresh coat of paint.

Like a person in a storm desperately grasping at a lamppost, he clung to his daily routine.

Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.

"Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish."

I'd be smiling and chatting away, and my mind would be floating around somewhere else, like a balloon with a broken string.

Somewhere in his body — perhaps in the marrow of his bones — he would continue to feel her absence.

Instead of things I'm good at, it might be faster to list the things I can't do. I can't cook or clean the house. My room's a mess, and I'm always losing things. I love music, but I can't sing a note. I'm clumsy and can barely sew a stitch. My sense of direction is the pits, and I can't tell left from right half the time. When I get angry, I tend to break things. Plates and pencils, alarm clocks. Later on I regret it, but at the time I can't help myself. I have no money in the bank. I'm bashful for no reason, and I have hardly any friends to speak of.

People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.

Taking crazy things seriously is a serious waste of time.

I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?

No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.