What did Haruki Murakami mean by: Once she was out of the car and gone, my world was suddenly hollow and meaningless. Haruki Murakami Author · Japan Copy
Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that’s how we’ve got to live. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Impermanence, Life, Transience, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
The world would be a pretty dull place if it were made up only of the first-rate, right? Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Appreciation, Diversity, Perspective, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Impact, Loss, Memory, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
+ No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself. Read explanation Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Identity, Reflection, Self-discovery, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
Love can rebuild the world, they say, so everything’s possible when it comes to love. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Love, Possibility, Rebuilding, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
Sometimes it’s not the people who change, it’s the mask that falls off. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Authenticity, Change, Perception, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Effort, Hurt, Inevitability, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
I’ll never see them again. I know that. And they know that. And knowing this, we say farewell. Author, January 17, 2024January 9, 2025, Haruki Murakami, Acceptance, Farewell, Loss, 0 Haruki Murakami Author · Japan
The dead drug leaves a ghost behind. At certain hours it haunts the house. Jean Cocteau Artist · France
Every time an artist dies, part of the vision of mankind passes with him. Franklin D. Roosevelt 32nd U.S. President · USA
Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time. Read explanation Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
