Wind/Pinball: Two Novels

by Haruki Murakami

Toward the end of high school, I decided to express only half of what I was really feeling. I can’t recall the initial reason, but for the next several years this was how I behaved. At which point I discovered that I had turned into a person incapable of expressing more than half of what he felt.

If we own things, we’re terrified we’ll lose them; if we’ve got nothing we worry it’ll be that way forever.

All things pass. None of us can manage to hold on to anything. In that way, we live our lives.

he could sense the fullness of a woman’s existence: loving a man, bearing children, growing old and dying.

Woof.

Each day was a carbon copy of the last. You needed a bookmark to tell one from the other.