She curled up and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her ear was right above his heart. She was listening to his thoughts. "I need to know this," Aomame said. "That we're in the same world, seeing the same things.

To be able to grasp something of value, sometimes you have to perform seemingly inefficient acts.

Oshima's silent for a time as he gazes at the forest, eyes narrowed. Birds are flitting from one branch to the next. His hands are clasped behind his head. "I know how you feel," he finally says. "But this is something you have to work out on your own. Nobody can help you. That's what love's all about, Kafka. You're the one having those wonderful feelings, but you have to go it alone as you wander through the dark. Your mind and body have to bear it all. All by yourself.

Death leaves cans of shaving cream half-used.

Death was not the opposite of life. It was already here, within my being, it had always been here, and no struggle would permit me to forget that.

Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.

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