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  • #1
    Oscar Wilde
    “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
    Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan

  • #2
    Oscar Wilde
    “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
    Oscar Wilde

  • #3
    Oscar Wilde
    “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
    Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

  • #4
    Oscar Wilde
    “Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit.”
    Oscar Wilde

  • #5
    Oscar Wilde
    “Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about.”
    Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan

  • #6
    Oscar Wilde
    “Hearts are made to be broken.”
    Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

  • #7
    Oscar Wilde
    “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”
    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

  • #8
    Oscar Wilde
    “Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.”
    Oscar Wilde

  • #9
    Oscar Wilde
    “I can resist anything except temptation.”
    Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan

  • #10
    Oscar Wilde
    “The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
    Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest and Other Plays

  • #11
    Oscar Wilde
    “Music makes one feel so romantic - at least it always gets on one's nerves - which is the same thing nowadays.”
    Oscar Wilde

  • #12
    Oscar Wilde
    “Art is the only serious thing in the world. And the artist is the only person who is never serious.”
    Oscar Wilde

  • #13
    Oscar Wilde
    “With freedom, flowers, books, and the moon, who could not be perfectly happy?”
    Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

  • #14
    Oscar Wilde
    “When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.”
    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

  • #15
    Oscar Wilde
    “You must have a cigarette. A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?”
    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

  • #16
    Oscar Wilde
    “Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.”
    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

  • #17
    Haruki Murakami
    “Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #18
    Haruki Murakami
    “It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #19
    Haruki Murakami
    “Listen up - there's no war that will end all wars.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #20
    Haruki Murakami
    “Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.”
    Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

  • #21
    Haruki Murakami
    “Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

    And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

    And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #22
    Haruki Murakami
    “But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

  • #23
    Haruki Murakami
    “Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to sleep through it. But even if you go to the ends of the earth, you won't be able to escape it. Still, you have to go there- to the edge of the world. There's something you can't do unless you get there.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #24
    Haruki Murakami
    “What do you think? I'm not a starfish or a pepper tree. I'm a living, breathing human being. Of course I've been in love.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #25
    Haruki Murakami
    “In a place far away from anyone or anywhere, I drifted off for a moment.”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

  • #26
    Haruki Murakami
    “It’s like when you put instant rice pudding mix in a bowl in the microwave and push the button, and you take the cover off when it rings, and there you’ve got ricing pudding. I mean, what happens in between the time when you push the switch and when the microwave rings? You can’t tell what’s going on under the cover. Maybe the instant rice pudding first turns into macaroni gratin in the darkness when nobody’s looking and only then turns back into rice pudding. We think it’s only natural to get rice pudding after we put rice pudding mix in the microwave and the bell rings, but to me, that is just a presumption. I would be kind of relieved if, every once in a while, after you put rice pudding mix in the microwave and it rang and you opened the top, you got macaroni gratin. I suppose I’d be shocked, of course, but I don’t know, I think I’d be kind of relieved too. Or at least I think I wouldn’t be so upset, because that would feel, in some ways, a whole lot more real.”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

  • #27
    Haruki Murakami
    “The sense of tragedy - according to Aristotle - comes, ironically enough, not from the protagonist's weak points but from his good qualities. Do you know what I'm getting at? People are drawn deeper into tragedy not by their defects but by their virtues.
    ...
    [But] we accept irony through a device called metaphor. And through that we grow and become deeper human beings.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #28
    Haruki Murakami
    “Being with her I feel a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest. An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it. It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one.
    The pain is an anchor, mooring me here.
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #29
    Haruki Murakami
    “Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in awhile, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #30
    Haruki Murakami
    “Between the end of that strange summer and the approach of winter, my life went on without change. Each day would dawn without incident and end as it had begun. It rained a lot in September. October had several warm, sweaty days. Aside from the weather, there was hardly anything to distinguish one day from the next. I worked at concentrating my attention on the real and useful. I would go to the pool almost every day for a long swim, take walks, make myself three meals.

    But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drank, the very air I breathed, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle



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