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Haruki Murakami
“Reading was like an addiction; I read while I ate, on the train, in bed until late at night, in school, where I'd keep the book hidden so I could read during class. Before long I bought a small stereo and spent all my time in my room, listening to jazz records. But I had almost no desire to talk to anyone about the experience I gained through books and music. I felt happy just being me and no one else. In that sense I could be called a stack-up loner.”
Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Haruki Murakami
“I never trust people with no appetite. It's like they're always holding something back on you.”
Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

Julian Barnes
“He had a better mind and a more rigorous temperament than me; he thought logically, and then acted on the conclusion of logical thought. Whereas most of us, I suspect, do the opposite: we make an instinctive decision, then build up an infrastructure of reasoning to justify it. And call the result common sense.”
Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

Frank Herbert
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Frank Herbert, Dune

G. Willow Wilson
“There is so a real poem," said Fatima, annoyed. "The real Conference of the Birds was written by someone, by a real person. He had certain intentions. I want to know what they are. He wrote the poem for a reason, and the reason matters."

"Does it?" Vikram stretched his toes, revealing a row of claws as black as obsidian. "Once a story leaves the hand of its author, it belongs to the reader. And the reader may see any number of things, conflicting things, contradictory things. The author goes silent. If what he intended matter so very much, there would be no need for inquisitions, schisms and wars. But he is silent, silent. The author of the poem is silent, the author of the world is silent. We are left with no intentions but our own.”
G. Willow Wilson, The Bird King

year in books
Kristy ...
2,066 books | 170 friends

Emma
409 books | 138 friends

Chantal...
113 books | 86 friends

Kathlee...
268 books | 63 friends

Nick Le...
934 books | 97 friends

Miha Pl...
114 books | 52 friends

Meredith
1,320 books | 177 friends

Lindsay...
258 books | 121 friends

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