Quotes from Ry? Murakami

Every time he studied this instrument, with its slender, gleaming steel rod that tapered down to such needle-like sharpness, he wondered why it was necessary to have things like this in the world. If it were truly only for chopping ice, you'd think a completely different design might do. The people who produce and sell things like this don't understand, he thought. They don't realize that some of us break out in a cold sweat at just a glimpse of that shiny, pointed tip.

He wakes! The steel giant wakes! Long, long ago he rose from the sea, with the blood of life streaming from his belly. And then they buried him with thunder...and...carrots...at Stonehenge. But now he wakes again. The Age of Rotten Fish is over; the Age of Steel and Bombs is upon us. And he had come to give us life and strength, to free us form these cells, to restore us once again to baseball and ping pong! Sent by God from the Great Beyond!!!

But for all we've lost, hope is in fact one thing we Japanese have regained. The great earthquake and tsunami have robbed us of many lives and resources. But we who were so intoxicated with our own prosperity have once again planted the seed of hope. So I choose to believe.

I remembered reading in a hard-boiled detective novel that if you drink in the same place two nights in a row, the bartender and waiters will remember your face.

It was a face that instantly robbed those who gazed upon it of a good thirty percent of the energy they needed to go on living.

Children would struggle desperately to feel love for their parents. Rather than hate a parent, in fact, they'd choose to hate themselves.

Everyone's running around comparing wounds, like bodybuilders showing off their muscles. And what's really unbelievable is that they really believe they can heal the wounds like that, just by putting them on display.

Malevolence is born of negative feelings like lonliness and sadness and anger. It comes from an emptiness inside you that feels as if it's been carved out with a knife; an emptiness you're left with when something very important has been taken away from you.

I thought if I were beautiful enough, all my dreams would come true. But you don't steady beautiful forever; one day you wake up and it's gone, and then where are you? Dreams are made with blood and sweat and tears.

Oba-sans, to put it in somewhat difficult terms, are life-forms that have stopped evolving. And anyone can turn into an Oba-san. Young women, of course, but even young men, even middle-aged men —even children. You turn into an Oba-san the instant you lose the will to evolve.

Only time can heal wounds as deep as that—a lot of time—and all you can really do is place yourself in its hands and try to consider the passing of each day a victory.

Ponekad je mnogo teže iza?i na kraj s glupoš?u nego sa svesnim zlom.

Najgori mogu?i scenario uvek se oblikuje iza zavese, gde niko ne može da ga otkrije niti da ga primeti, i onda jednog dana, bum, to postaje tvoja stvarnost. A kada jednom postane stvarnost, prekasno je da se bilo šta uradi.

Even when you're talking to them face to face you have this feeling of not connecting, as if the words just pass through them. Sometimes they remind me of the Invisible Man, but I've never quite understood why they end up that way.

If everyone could feel as I felt at that moment, dressed in my preppy sweater and McGregor coat and about to set out on a little journey with my Bambi-eyed girlfriend on Christmas Eve, all conflicts in the world would vanish. Mellow smiles would rule the earth.

Even now I occasionally get a long letter from Kimiko, who's still in and out of mental hospitals. I've never written a reply. The Last Picture Show Iwas eighteen.

It was the perfect time and place for an inherently timid person like him to express his inner pervert by peeing in public.

Most of the advice was along the lines of, "If you persevere in your efforts you will surely succeed," which is bullshit, if you ask me. People who turn to stuff like this have probably already persevered and gotten nowhere.

Los niños luchaban con desesperación por amar a sus padres. De hecho, antes que odiar a un padre, elegían odiarse a sí mismos.

Memories are't like words; they're soft and gooey. Covered with a sticky slime, like a penis after sex, or your vagina when you menstruate, and shaped like tadpoles or tiny watersnakes

Advertising departments, as you know, are crawling with people whose frontal lobes are so underdeveloped that if you flatter them a bit they'll swear shit is platinum.

that you don't suffer because of someone else. There's never anyone but

We sat side by side on the swings. The creaking sound they made seemed sexier to me than a Jimi Hendrix guitar solo.

Such behaviours weren't the reasons parents abused children but the results of abuse.