19 Quotes by Haruki Murakami about fiction
- Author Haruki Murakami
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When I'm writing a story, I use words to transform the surrounding scene into something more natural for me. In other words, I reconstruct it. That way, I can confirm without a doubt that this person known as 'me' exists in the world.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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No matter how clear the relationships of things might become in the forest of story, there was never a clear-cut solution.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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There are three types of emotional wounds: those that heal quickly, those that take a long time to heal, and those that remain with you until you die. I think one of the major roles of fiction is to explore as deeply and in as much detail as possible the wounds that remain. Because those are the scars that, for better or for worse, define and shape a person’s life.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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Quando se deu conta disso, a tristeza avançou silenciosamente, como água. Era uma tristeza transparente, sem forma. A tristeza era dele mesmo, mas, ao mesmo tempo, se encontrava em algum lugar distante, longe do seu alcance. O peito doeu como se parte dele tivesse sido arrancada, e se sentiu sufocado.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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,My head is like a ridiculous barn packed full of stuff I want to write about,’ she said. 'Images, scenes, snatches of words…in my mind they’re all growing, all alive. Write! they shout at me. A great new story is about to be born - I can feel it. It’ll transport me to some brand-new place. Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put them all down on paper, I realize something vital is missing. It doesn’t crystallize - no crystals, just pebbles. And I’m not transported anywhere.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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Memory is like fiction: or else it' fiction that's like memory.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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The new day is almost here, but the old one is still dragging its heavy skirts. Just as ocean water and river water struggle against each other at a river mouth, the old time and the new time clash and blend.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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Next she turned the gun upward and thrust the muzzle into her mouth. Now it was aimed directly at her cerebrum-- the gray labyrinth where consciousness resided.
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- Author Haruki Murakami
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It was as if - this something I thought of only later, of course - she was gently peeling back one layer after another that covered a person's heart, a very sensual feeling.
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