Quotations

"... in everybody's life there's a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can't go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That's how we survive." "Listening to Fournier's flowing, dignified cello, Honshino was drawn back to his childhood. He used to go to the river everyday to catch fish. Nothing to worry about back then. he reminisced. Just live each day as it came. As long as I was alive, I was something. That was just how it was. But somewhere along the line it all changed. Living turned me into nothing. Weird...People are born in order to live, right? But the longer I've lived, the more I've lost what's inside me–and ended up empty. And I bet the longer I live, the emptier, the more worthless, I'll become. Something's wrong with this picture. Life isn't supposed to turn out like this! Isn't it possible to shift direction, to change where I'm headed?" The air was damp and stagnant, with a hint of something suspicious, as if countless ears were floating in the air, waiting to pick up a trace of some conspiracy. I'd never imagined that trees could be so weird and unearthly. I mean, the only plants I've ever really seen or touched till now are the city kind--neatly trimmed and cared-for bushes and trees. But the ones here--the ones living here--are totally different. They have a physical power, their breath grazing any humans who might chance by, their gaze zeroing in on the intruder like they've spotted their prey. Like they have some dark, prehistroric, magical powers. Like deep-sea creatures rule the ocean depths, in the forest trees reign supreme. If it wanted to, the forest could reject me--or swallow me up whole. A healthy amount of fear and respect might be a good idea. There's only one kind of happiness, but misfortune comes in all shapes and sizes. show all 6 items) 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 into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine