And it was the kind of thing that loses the most important nuances when reduced to words. He had never told anyone about it, and he probably never would.

Waves of thought are stirring. In a twilight corner of her consciousness, one tiny fragment and another tiny fragment call out wordlessly to eachother, their spreading ripples intermingling.

Thinking about spaghetti that boils eternally but is never done is a sad, sad thing.

You're afraid of imagination and even more afraid of dreams. Afraid of the resposibility that begins in dreams. But you have to sleep and dreams are a part of sleep. When you're awake you can suppress imagination but you can't supress dreams.

One last word of advice, though, Mr. Okada, though you may not want to hear this. There are things in this world it is better not to know about. Of course, those are the very things that people most want to know about. It's strange.

Whiskey, like a beautiful woman, demands appreciation. You gaze first, then it's time to drink.

In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.