Haruki Murakami Quotes

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

With subtle and finely-wrought temperaments it is always so. Their strong passions must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, or themselves die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and the sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude.

O, when the heart is, full, when bitter thoughts come crowding thickly up for utterance, and the poor common words of courtesy are such a very mockery, how much the bursting heart may pour itself in prayer!

The human heart is like a ship on a stormy sea driven about by winds blowing from all four corners of heaven.

My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out.

Got a head full of lightning, a hat full of rain.

Passion alone could destroy passion. All the thinking in the world could not make so much as a dent in its surface.

I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.

My heart beat Beats me senselessly Why's everything Gotta be so intense with me.

In a restless heart the seed of betrayal lay.

Kent. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all.

I'm a student of violence because I'm a student of the human heart.

My heart is heavy, she thought. It’s not just a saying. It is what is—heavy, a great stone lodged in my breast, pressing down my whole being. How can I even stand straight and look out upon the world? I am doubled over into myself and, for all the weight, find only emptiness.

In his deepest heart there surge tremendous shame and madness mixed with sorrow and love whipped on by frenzy and a courage aware of its own worth.

Passions are likened best to floods and streams: The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.

And if my mind breaks up In all so many ways I know the meaning of The words, "I love you

For in the voyage of the heart, there is a freight of hatred, and the wind of wrath blows shrill.

What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart

I'm awaiting a lover. I have to be rent and pulled apart and live according to the demons and the imagination in me. I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

Not only does the wind of accidents stir me according to its blowing, but I am also stirred and troubled by the instability of my attitude.

Everything gives way before the recurring torment and festivity of passion.

He thought that he was sick in his heart if you could be sick in that place.

Now panic beats and flutters inside my skull like a flock of starlings locked in an attic.