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I’m not good at talking,” Naoko said. “Haven’t been for the longest while. I start to say something and the wrong words come out. Wrong or sometimes completely backward. I try to go back and correct it, but things get even more complicated and confused, so that I don’t even remember what I started to say in the first place. Like I was split into two or something, one half chasing the other. And there’s this big pillar in the middle and they go chasing each other around and around it. The other me always latches onto the right word and this me absolutely never catches up.
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..finally he was just another ant, working and working until he died without meaning.
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Irrepressible curiosity vied with an instinctive fear.
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Sometimes I feel like a caretaker of a museum -- a huge, empty museum where no one ever comes, and I'm watching over it for no one but myself.
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Exerting yourself to the limit over and over again, that is the essence of running. Running is painful, but the pain doesn't leave me, I can take care of it. That agrees with my mentality.
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Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live.
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No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.
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Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.
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Each person feels pain in his own way, each has his own scars.
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I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. And killing time is one of my specialities.
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Even castles in the sky can do with a fresh coat of paint.
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Life: I'll never understand it.
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A theory is a battlefield in your head.
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I can never say what I want to say, it's been like this for a while now. I try to say something but all I get are wrong words - the wrong words or the exact opposite words from what I mean. I try to correct myself, and that only makes it worse. I lose track of what I was trying to say to begin with. It's like I'm split in two and playing tag with myself. One half is chasing this big, fat post. The other me has the right words, but this can't catch her.
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But the silence spoke volumes.
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Nobody likes being alone that much. I don't go out of my way to make friends, that's all. It just leads to disappointment.
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Only where there is disillusionment and depression and sorrow does happiness arise; without the despair of loss, there is no hope.
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No matter what you tell me, no matter how legitimate your reasons, I can never just forget about you, I can never push the years we spent together out of my mind. I can't do it because it really happened, they are part of my life, and there is no way I can just erase them. That would be the same as erasing my own self.
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Not everything was lost in the flow of time.
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When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.
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In other words, let's face it: Life is basically unfair. But even in a situation that's unfair, I think it's possible to seek out a kind of fairness. Of course, that might take time and effort. And maybe it won't seem to be worth all that. It's up to each individual to decide whether or not it is.
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It is my huge pleasure that my novels are translated into languages that are read among small numbers of people.
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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.
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A certain something, he felt, had managed to work its way in through a tiny opening and was trying to fill a blank space inside him. The void was not one that she had made. It had always been there inside him. She had merely managed to shine a special light on it.