Haruki Murakami Quotes

Only self-hatred could lead him to ruin himself because his heart was "broken.

Hatred can eat at you until there's nothing left, until you become the thing you hate.

The hatred you're carrying is a live coal in your heart - far more damaging to yourself than to them.

In the vaults of our hearts and brains, danger waits. All the chambers are not lovely, light and high. There are holes in the floor of the mind, like those in a medieval dungeon floor - the stinking oubliettes, named for forgetting, bottle-shaped cells in solid rock with the trapdoor in the top. Nothing escapes from them quietly to ease us. A quake, some betrayal by our safeguards, and sparks of memory fire the noxious gases - things trapped for years fly free, ready to explode in pain and drive us to dangerous behavior.

You're a man who has suffered and wants revenge,' she said. 'Your heart is dead, your soul is in darkness. The devil by your side is smiling because you are playing the game he invented.

Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.

The terrible thing about terrorism is that ultimately it destroys those who practice it. Slowly but surely, as they try to extinguish life in others, the light within them dies.

Those who hate you don't win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.

I want to hit him, step away and watch him hurt. I want his heart.

The greatest enemy to man is man.

Mix an anorexic body with a heart made of pure fire and you are going to go with a savagery that's hard to explain.

Her only thought was of getting away, as if she were carrying a live grenade from inside the house, so that when it exploded, it would destroy just herself.

i swore i could feel my lies slithering inside me like snakes, wrapping themselves around me and constricting. i felt they were squeezing the air from my lungs, tightening around my heart.

Delia's arms were inscribed with a grid of self- inflicted wounds, an intricate text of self-loathing

In my dreams, I kill him every night,' Robert admitted. 'A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves'.

They devour each other and cannot even digest themselves.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

A foolishness is inflicted with a hatred of itself.

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to put her fist through a mirror. She would tell everyone it was so that she could see what was on the other side, but really, it was so that she wouldn't have to look at herself. That, and because she thought she might be able to steal a piece of glass when no one was looking, and use it to carve her heart out of her chest.

He looked at her Something Turned cancerous He was in love.

This is why dreams can be such dangerous things: they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes they consume us completely.

If you have rage and righteously act it out and blame it all on others, it's really you who suffers. The other people and the environment suffer also, but you suffer more because you're being eaten up inside with rage, causing you to hate yourself more and more

Fear, she's the mother of violence.

If you make your heart into a weapon, you end up using it on yourself.

The hatred we bear our enemies injures their happiness less than our own.