Then when dusk began to settle he would retrace his steps, back to his own world. And on the way home, a loneliness would always claim his heart. He could never quite get a grip on what it was. It just seemed that whatever lay waiting "out there" was all too vast, too overwhelming for him to possibly ever make a dent in.

I think people who share my dreams can enjoy reading my novels. And that's a wonderful thing. I said that myths are like a reservoir of stories, and if I can act as a similar kind of "reservoir," albeit a modest one, that would make me very happy.

I don't know -- maybe the world has two different kinds of people, and for one kind the world is this completely logical, rice pudding place, and for the other it's all hit-or-miss macaroni gratin.

In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.

What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.

Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life

When you are used to the kind of life -of never getting anything you want- you stop knowing what it is you want.