When someone is trying very hard to get something, they don't. And when they're running away from something as hard as they can, it usually catches up with them.

There's not much you can do about time - it just keeps on passing. But experience? Don't tell me that. I'm not proud of it, but I don't have any sexual desire. And what sort of experience can a writer have if she doesn't feel passion? It'd be like a chef without an appetite.

In a sense, I'm the one who ruined me: I did it myself.

My priority is my books, at least at this point. What I have to do is write the narrative of this time.

The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.

I tell you, Mr. Okada, a cold beer at the end of the day is the best thing life has to offer. Some choosy people say that a too cold beer doesn't taste good, but I couldn't disagree more. The first beer should be so cold you can't even taste it. The second one should be a little less chilled, but I want that first one to be like ice. I want it to be so cold my temples throb with pain. This is my own personal preference of course.

Don't you think it would be wonderful to get rid of everything and everybody and just go some place where you don't know a soul?