South of the Border, West of the Sun: A Novel (Vintage International)

by Haruki Murakami

But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.

Another person’s life is that person’s life. You can’t take responsibility. It’s like we’re living in a desert. You just have to get used to it.

“Hajime,” she began, “the sad truth is that certain types of things can’t go backward. Once they start going forward, no matter what you do, they can’t go back the way they were. If even one little thing goes awry, then that’s how it will stay forever.”

Even castles in the air can do with a fresh coat of paint.

Sometimes I couldn’t stand how we were just going through the motions, acting out our assigned roles. Something crucial to us was lost, yet still we could carry on as before.