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I'm tired of living unable to love anyone. I don't have a single friend - not one. And, worst of all, I can't even love myself. Why is that? Why can't I love myself? It's because I can't love anyone else. A person learns how to love himself through the simple acts of loving and being loved by someone else. Do you understand what I am saying? A person who is incapable of loving another cannot properly love himself.
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No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.
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Only the dead stay seventeen forever.
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Maybe the only thing I can definitely say about is this: That’s life. Maybe the only thing we can do is accept it, without really knowing what’s going on.
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Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in flight, searching the skies for dreams.
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Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die.
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Life is not like water. Things in life don't necessarily flow over the shortest possible route.
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Your work should be an act of love, not a marriage of convenience.
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There are some things about myself I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I’m not such a wonderful human being.
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Taking crazy things seriously is a serious waste of time.
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Our responsibility begins with our imagination.
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This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock built when peace filled the world.
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You have to make an effort to always look at the good side, always think about the good things. Then you've got nothing to be afraid of. If something bad comes up, you do more thinking at that point.
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And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
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Letters are just pieces of paper. Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish.
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What makes us the most normal," said Reiko, "is knowing that we're not normal.
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Having an object that symbolizes freedom might make a person happier than actually getting the freedom it represents.
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There are many things we only see clearly in retrospect.
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There's no such thing as perfect writing, just like there's no such thing as perfect despair.
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I've translated a lot of American literature into Japanese, and I think that what makes a good translator is, above all, a feel for language and also a great affection for the work you're translating. If one of those elements is missing the translation won't be worth much.
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She was seriously in love, but she never made demands.
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Time flows in strange ways on Sundays, and sights become mysteriously distorted.
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I wonder what ants do on rainy days?
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Maybe working on the little things as dutifully and honestly as we can is how we stay sane when the world is falling apart.