Kafka on the Shore

The Arabian Nights, pick

The 400 Blows

Just as blood travels down veins, what I’m seeing is my inner self, and what seems threatening is just the echo of the fear in my heart.

François Truffaut’s film The 400 Blows

I try imagining myself in 40 years’ time, but it’s like trying to picture what lies beyond the universe.

The library is quiet enough most of the time, but on a day like this when it’s closed it’s like the land that time forgot. Or more like a place that’s holding its breath, hoping time won’t stumble upon it.

“In ancient times people weren’t simply male or female, but one of three types: male/male, male/female or female/female. In other words each person was made out of the components of two people. Everyone was happy with this arrangement and never really gave it much thought. But then God took a knife and cut everyone in half, right down the middle. S

“I never ask the impossible. That’s a colossal waste of time, don’t you agree?”

Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it’s important to know what’s right and what’s wrong. Individual errors in judgment can usually be corrected. As long as you