Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Thinking about spaghetti that boils eternally but is never done is a sad, sad thing.
In my younger days, I was trying to write sophisticated prose and fantastic stories.
Forgive me for stating the obvious, but the world is made up of all kinds of people.
Judging the mistakes of strangers is an easy thing to do - and it feels pretty good.
Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live.
Even if you managed to escape from one cage, weren't you just in another, larger one?
It was as if I were writing letters to hold together the pieces of my crumbling life.
Friends don't need the intervention of a third party. Friendship's a voluntary thing.
There's a special feeling you get on a veranda that you just can't get anywhere else.
Love can rebuild the world, they say, so everything's possible when it comes to love.
..finally he was just another ant, working and working until he died without meaning.
You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days somebody is going to find you.
When I start to write, I don't have any plan at all. I just wait for the story to come.
What we needed were not words and promises but a steady accumulation of small realities.
The world would be a pretty dull place if it were made up only of the first-rate, right?
There is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for.
No matter how honestly you open up to someone, there are still things you cannot reveal.
The problem was, I think, that the places I fit in were always falling behind the rimes.
Exhaustion pays no mind to age or beauty. Like rain and earthquakes and hail and floods.
This place is too calm, too natural--too complete. I don't deserve it. At least not yet.
When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.
You make do with what you have. As you age you learn even to be happy with what you have.
It was a small room with dim light coming in the window, reminiscent of old Polish films.
But I found that the longer you teach, the more you feel like a total stranger to yourself
Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it's time for them to be hurt.
The passage of time will usually extract the venom of most things and render them harmless
Precipitate as weather, she appeared from somewhere, then evaporated, leaving only memory.
I’m me, and at the same time not me. That’s what it felt like. A very still, quiet feeling.
I don't know how many good books I still have in me; I hope there are another four or five.
Ever since that happened to me, I haven't been able to give myself to anyone in this world.
I'm not human. I'm a piece of machinery. I don't need to feel a thing. Just forge on ahead.
I go by the gut. I might not appear to have any talent but I've got plenty of gut instinct.
If you do anything out of the ordinary, you can be sure someone, somewhere, will get upset.
Kids' hearts are malleable, but once they gel it's hard to get them back the way they were.
That's evolution. Evolution's always hard. Hard and bleak. No such thing as happy evolution
No matter what the situation may be, I still take pleasure in witnessing the joy of others.
No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.
I'm not a fast thinker, but once I am interested in something, I am doing it for many years.
But what seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else.
The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts.
Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.
We were young, and we had no need for prophecies. Just living was itself an act of prophecy.
In the end, like so many beautiful promises in our lives, that dinner date never came to be.
The best point of my novels, I think, is their humor. I want to keep many my works humorous.
Spend your money on the things money can buy. Spend your time on the things money can’t buy.
In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.
And her sleep was too long and deep for that:so deep that she left her normal reality behind.
For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured.At least by the person who's waiting.
I am worrying about my country. I feel I have a responsibility as a novelist to do something.
What the world needs is a set villain that people can point at and say, “It’s all your fault!