#murakami

Ne radi se o tome da ne vjerujem u savremenu književnost, ali ne želim da traćim dragocjeno vrijeme na čitanje knjiga čiju vrijednost nije potvrdilo vrijeme. Život je kratak. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#japan #norveška-šuma #norwegian-wood #japan

And when the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of a storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what the storm is about ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#inspirational #kafka-on-the-shore #inspirational

If you can love someone with your whole hear, even on person, then there's salvation in life. Even if you can't get together with that person. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#murakami #life

Every single day, each time I see her face, see her, it's utterly precious. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#kafka-on-the-shore #love #miss-saeki #murakami #love

El amor que se profesaban era tan verdadero que no había ninguna necesidad de ponerlo a prueba. El destino los había unido con un lazo tan fuerte que solo es posible encontrar uno igual entre un millón ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#love #murakami #love

Or maybe that’s what it’s all about: this religion’s substance is its lack of substance. In McLuhanesque terms, the medium is the message. Some people might find that cool.” “McLuhanesque?” “Hey, look, even I read a book now and then,” Ayumi protested. “McLuhan was ahead of his time. He was so popular for a while that people tend not to take him seriously, but what he had to say was right.” “In other words, the package itself is the contents. Is that it?” “Exactly. The characteristics of the package determine the nature of the contents, not the other way around. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#medium #message #murakami #religion #substance

La muerte no existe en contraposición a la vida sino como parte de ella. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#tokio-blues #vida

April ended and May came along, but May was even worse than April. In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going down. In the pale evening gloom, when the soft fragrance of magnolias hung in the air, my heart would swell without warning, and tremble, and lurch with a stab of pain. I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and wait for it to pass. And it would pass....but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache behind. At those times I would write to Naoko. In my letters to her, I would describe only things that were touching or pleasant or beautiful: the fragrance of grasses, the caress of a spring breeze, the light of the moon, a movie I'd seen, a song I liked, a book that had moved me. I myself would be comforted by letters like this when I would reread what I had written. And I would feel that the world I lived in was a wonderful one. I wrote any number of letters like this, but from Naoko or Reiko I heart nothing. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#norwegian-wood #beauty

As much as any contemporary writer, Murakami grasps the bewildering fluidity of commoditized life. ↗

— The Japan Foundation

#japan #japanese-literature #life