Loss was not a skill, not a measure of a life. And yet I still felt I had something to lose. — Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. (Kodansha USA Inc; 1st edition, September 1, 1991) Originally published 1985. Advertisements
Autumn approaches and the heart begins to dream of four-tatami rooms — Matsuo Bashō The Sound of Water: Haiku by Bashō, Buson, Issa, and Other Poets (trans. Sam Hamill with illustrations by Kaji Aso)
The secrets inside her mind are like flowers in a garden at nighttime, filling the darkness with perfume. — Fumiko Enchi, Masks. (Vintage; 1st Aventura ed edition, September 12, 1983) Originally published 1958.
Beyond 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 Murakami, Kafka on the Shore. (Vintage, January 3, 2006) Originally published 2002.
I realize full well how hard it must be to go on living alone in a place from which someone has left you, but there is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for. — Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (Harvill/Panther 1999:; Limited centenary ed edition 1999)… Continue reading Haruki Murakami
He sometimes wondered if she had become involved with him just so that she could cry in someone’s arms. Maybe she can’t cry alone, and that’s why she needs me. ― Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman. (Knopf; First Edition edition August 29, 2006)
Autumn eve – please turn to me. I, too, am stranger. — Matsuo Bashō, trans. Lucien Stryk, On Love and Barley: Haiku of Bashō (University of Hawaii Press, 1985)