But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.
Haruki MurakamiMusic brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.
Haruki MurakamiYou said that the mind is like the wind but perhaps it is we who are like the wind Knowing nothing, simply blowing through. Never aging, never dying.
Haruki MurakamiThanks to the long days of rain, the blades of grass glowed with a deep-green luster, and they gave off the smell of wildness unique to things that sink their roots into the earth.
Haruki MurakamiI probably still havenโt completely adapted to the world. I donโt know, I feel like this isnโt the real world. The people, the scene: they just donโt seem real to me.
Haruki MurakamiLike you're riding a train at night across some vast plain, and you catch a glimpse of a tiny light in a window of a farmhouse. In an instant it's sucked back into the darkness behind and vanishes. But if you close your eyes, that point of light stays with you, just barely for a few moments.
Haruki Murakami