Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman - Bilingual quotes that celebrate the beauty of language, showcasing meaningful expressions in two unique perspectives.

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman - Bilingual quotes that celebrate the beauty of language, showcasing meaningful expressions in two unique perspectives.

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is a collection of short stories by the acclaimed author Haruki Murakami. The compilation showcases Murakami's signature style, blending the surreal and the mundane, showcasing his deep understanding of human emotions. Each story explores different themes, such as love, loss, loneliness, and the often blurred lines between reality and dreams. The narratives are rich with symbolism and evoke a sense of quiet introspection, characteristic of Murakami's literary voice.

Murakami's characters are often portrayed as introspective individuals grappling with their inner lives and relationships. The stories feature a diverse range of protagonists, each facing their own unique challenges and existential questions. By intertwining their experiences with magical realism, Murakami invites readers to reflect on the deeper meanings of their struggles and connections with others.

The collection is both accessible and thought-provoking, offering a glimpse into the complexities of the human psyche. As readers journey through the distinct yet interconnected tales, they are left to ponder the mysteries of existence and the impact of dreams on reality. Overall, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman serves as a testament to Murakami's mastery in storytelling and his ability to resonate with readers across various cultures and backgrounds.

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Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.
by Mitch Albom
Look, if you say that science will eventually prove there is no God, on that I must differ. No matter how small they take it back, to a tadpole, to an atom, there is always something they can't explain, something that created it all at the end of the search. And no matter how far they try to go the other way โ€“ to extend life, play around with the genes, clone this, clone that, live to one hundred and fifty โ€“ at some point, life is over. And then what happens? When the life comes to an end? I shrugged. You see? He leaned back. He smiled. When you come to the end, that's where God begins.
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Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.
by Mitch Albom
All our human endeavours are like that, she reflected, and it is only because we are too ignorant to realize it, or are too forgetful to remember it, that we have the confidence to build something that is meant to last.
by Alexander McCall Smith
You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole.
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The value of money is subjective, depending on age. At the age of one, one multiplies the actual sum by 145,000, making one pound seem like 145,000 pounds to a one-year-old. At seven โ€“ Bertie's age โ€“ the multiplier is 24, so that five pounds seems like 120 pounds. At the age of twenty four, five pounds is five pounds; at forty five it is divided by 5, so that it seems like one pound and one pound seems like twenty pence. {All figures courtesy of Scottish Government Advice Leaflet: Handling your Money.}
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we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality-and, in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.
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I have the tendency to be nervous at the sight of trouble looming. As the danger draws near, I become less nervous. When the peril is at hand, I swell with fierceness. As I grapple with my assailant, I am without fear and fight to the finish with little thought of injury.
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But an ink brush, she thinks, is a skeleton key for a prisoner's mind.
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There's lying," says Mum, fishing out the envelope she wrote the directions on from her handbag, "which is wrong, and there's creating the right impression, which is necessary.
by David Mitchell