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What I was chasing in circles must have been the tail of the darkness inside me.
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I don't think of myself as an artist. I'm just a guy who can write.
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The best musicians transpose consciousness into sound; painters do the same for color and shape.
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The little things are important, Mr. Wind-Up Bird.
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The world is an inherently unfair place.
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I didn't have much to say to anybody but kept to myself and my books. With my eyes closed, I would touch a familiar book and draw it's fragrance deep inside me. This was enough to make me happy.
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And as we live our lives we discover - drawing toward us the thin threads attached to each - what has been lost. I closed my eyes and tried to bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. Drawing them closer, holding on to them.
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How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly marvelous.
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You make do with what you have. As you age you learn even to be happy with what you have.
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No one could say how long that life would last. Whatever has form can disappear in an instant.
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It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of outer space. The dark, lustrous eyes of the dog gazing out the tiny window. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could the dog possibly be looking at?
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Our hearts are not stones. A stone may disintegrate in time and lose its outward form. But hearts never disintegrate. They have no outward form, and whether good or evil, we can always communicate them to one another.
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Until the bitter end, the emptiness inside her was hers alone.
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The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.
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Adults need more complex narratives. They have their own narratives. The main characters are themselves.
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The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory.
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I always write my novels with music. I don't listened to the music seriously. Music seems to encourage me.
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One impossible day, of an impossible month, of an impossible year.
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In dreams begins responsiblities.
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Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.
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Is this what it means to go back to square one? Most likely. He had nothing left to lose, other than his life.
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I was enjoying myself writing, because I don't know what's going to happen when I take a ride around that corner. You don't know at all what you're going to find there. That can be thrilling when you read a book, especially when you're a kid and you're reading stories.
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Someone who can search for something is happy. Searching gives a meaning to life. Nowadays it’s not so easy to find something you might be looking for. The most important thing, however, is the search itself, the way you take. It’s not so important where it leads. that’s why my characters are always looking for something, maybe only a cat, a sheep or a wife, but that is at least the beginning of a story.
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Ordinary imperfect people, always choose similarly imperfect people as friends.