Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me. — Haruki Murakami, Dance, Dance, Dance (The Rat #4) Vintage Books (December 1, 2003) Advertisements
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.
Maybe it’s that life, at times, gets to you in a way that there’s really nothing more to say. — Alessandro Baricco, Silk (Vintage,1998)
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)
Since my house burned down I now have a better view of the rising moon ― Mizuta Masahide (1657–1723)
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.
The older we get the more we seem to think that everything was better in the past. ― Jun’ichirō Tanizaki