If you think God’s there, He is. If you don’t, He isn’t. And if that’s what God’s like, I wouldn’t worry about it.
I don’t know what it means to live.
Everything, everything seemed once-upon-a-time.
Our responsibility begins with our imagination.
It was a small room with dim light coming in the window, reminiscent of old Polish films.
And everywhere, infinite options, infinite possibilities. An infinity, and at the same time, zero. We try to scoop it all up in our hands, and what we get is a handful of zero. That’s the city.
The pillow smells like the sunlight, a precious smell.
Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die.
If I choose to write about sheep, it’s just because I happened to write about sheep. There is no deep significance.
At least he never walked.
What we needed were not words and promises but a steady accumulation of small realities.
We each have a special something we can get only at a special time of our life. like a small flame. A careful, fortunate few cherish that flame, nurture it, hold it as a torch to light their way. But once that flame goes out, it’s gone forever.
In dreams begins responsiblities.
Painful is the stress when one cannot reproduce or convey vividly to others, however hard he tries, what he’s experienced so intensely.
Once a guy starts using a wig, he has to keep using one. It’s, like, his fate. That’s why wig makers make such huge profits. I hate to say it, but they’re like drug dealers.
So this was how secrets got started, I thought to myself. People constructed them little by little.
Maybe she thought the garbage and rocks in your head were interesting. But finally, garbage is garbage and rocks are rocks.
A girl doesn’t always want to go out, you know, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. Sometimes she feels like being nasty – like, if the guy’s gonna wait, let him really wait.
All right, then, I thought: here I am in the bottom of a well.
Some things, you know, if you say them, it makes them not true?