my favourite sentences...


You can hide memory, but you can't erase the history that produced them.

It was sad to see what used to be so fundamental to our lives fade away and disappear in front of our own eyes.

Words don't come out when you're deeply hurt. That's why people keep silent and give no explanation. Yet, Murakami once wrote in his novel, 1Q84, "If you can't understand without an explanation, you can't understand with an explanation." Sometimes, people tend to not wanting to understand things instead of wanting to understand things. In short, they tend to ignore the possibility of trying to understand things.

do you know what makes life interesting?
--> it's interesting because we don't know what the future holds for us. don't blame the fate. we decide our fate, it's our choice. we can't choose where to be born, but we can certainly choose the way we live our life...

the life is yours, why bother asking other people to paint it for you?...

when we're small our word has never been counted; when we're big every word has always been counted...

i may not be able to wait thirteen months for you, nor until you are twenty-five, but i can wait for you a lifetime -- Under the Hawthorn Tree by Ai Mi

waiting, though one minute, it's still unbearable...

death doesn't mean that we are no longer existing. death just means a move to another world...

why can parents wholeheartedly sacrifice everything for the happiness of their children, even their life? but why can't their children, whom they give birth to, do the same thing to them? what power is it that encourages them to do so?....

the thing i'm most afraid of is ME. of not knowing what i'm going to do. of not knowing what i'm doing right now.

people always meet new friends. but they should not forget their old friends. because without your old friends we don't have a chance to meet new friends. the memories with our friends will be there forever in our brain. we can't omit it though time passes.

Friday, May 9, 2014

existence

Sitting on the sofa drinking whiskey, blown on softly by the air conditioner like a dandelion seed wafted along on a pleasant, breeze, I stared at the electric wall clock. As long as I stared at the clock, at least the world remained in motion. Not a very consequential world, but in motion nonetheless. And as long as I knew the world was still in motion, I knew I existed. Not a very consequential existence, but an existence nonetheless. It struck me as wanting that someone should confirm his own existence only by the hands of an electric wall clock. There had to be a more cognitive means of confirmation. But try as I might, nothing less facile came to mind.
-- extracted from A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami, page 61

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