“I wonder what it felt to move to a country where you didn’t grow up. I had thought about that often since my sister got married. Do you become a character in a story native to that land, or do you, somewhere in your heart, want to return to your homeland.”

Nothing exists in this world but me and my bed…” (p. 141).

But I have my life, I’m living it. It’s twisted, exhausting, uncertain, and full of guilt, but nonetheless, there’s something there.

This is what it means to be loved… when someone wants to touch you, to be tender.

Good tea is eloquent enough, it turns out, to change a person’s mind.

Here in this ocean, in the midst of all this water, with the red flags on those distant buoys flapping in the sea breeze, I find myself unable to treat our house in Tokyo as anything but a dream.

Inching one’s way along a steep cliff in the dark: on reaching the highway, one breathes a sigh of relief. Just when one can’t take any more, one sees the moonlight. Beauty that seems to infuse itself into the heart: I know about that

Over and over, we begin again.

Truly happy memories always live on, shining. Over time, one by one, they come back to life.

Again and again I will suffer; again and again I will get back on my feet. I will not be defeated.

The night glittered brilliantly then.

I realized that the world did not exist for my benefit. It followed that the ratio of pleasant and unpleasant things around me would not change. It wasn’t up to me. It was clear that the best thing to do was to adopt a sort of muddled cheerfulness.

Recognizing how totally ignorant you are is the only honest way to deal with people who’ve been through something traumatic.

I should have told her at the time. I could have taken a deep breath, looked away, and forced myself to say it.

The sky was incredibly far away, and beautiful enough to make a person wonder why our hearts are never so free.

People aren’t overcome by situations or outside forces. Defeat comes from within.

Someday, without fail, everyone will disappear, scattered into the blackness of time.

But there was one other thing that the grown-ups also knew, and it was this: that however small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance is there. The chance had to be there.

Growing old is unavoidable, but never growing up is possible. I believe you can retain certain things from your childhood if you protect them – certain traits, certain places where you don’t let the world go.

We supposed to be grown, but yet you still acting childish.

Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer.

You grow up a bit damaged or broken then you have some success but you don’t know how to feel good about the work you’re doing or the life you’re leading.

Most people don’t grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.

No experience is wasted. Everything in life is happening to grow you up, to fill you up, to help you become more of who you were created to be.

I cannot for the life of me understand why small children take so long to grow up. I think they do it deliberately, just to annoy me.