“ I felt as if I’d swallowed an overcast sky whole.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ The world had lost all sense of reality. Colors were unnatural, details crude. The background was papier-maiche, the stars made out of aluminum foil. You could see the glue and the heads of the nails holding it all together.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ A strange way to describe someone. Sumire was waiting expectantly, the snow-white first page of her notebook open, for nourishing words that could have been a source of warmth and comfort—a pilar, an axis, to help prop up her uncertain life here on this third planet form the sun. Her father should have said something that his young daughter could have held on to. But Sumire’s handsome father wasn’t going to speak those words, the very words she needed most.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ The Earth, after all, doesn’t creak and groan its way around the sun just so human beings can have a good time and a bit of a laugh.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ A deep silence ensued. Her mind was as clear as the winter night sky, the Big Dipper and North Star in place, twinkling brightly. She had so many things she has to write, so many stories to tell. If she could only find the right outlet, heated thoughts and ideas would gush out like lava, congealing into a steady stream of inventive works, the likes of which the world had never seen. People’s eyes would pop wide open at the sudden debut of this Promising Young Writer with a Rare Talent. A photo of her, smiling cooly, would appear in the arts section of the newspaper, and editors would beat a path to her door.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ My head is like some ridiculous barn packed full of stuff I want to write about,’ she said. ‘Images, scenes, snatches of words…in my mind they’re all glowing, all alive. Write! they shout at me. A great new story is about to be born I can feel it. It’ll transport me to some brand-new place. Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put them all down on paper, I realize something vital is missing. It doesn’t crystallize—no crystals, just pebbles. And I’m not transported anywhere.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ Writing novels is much the same. You gather up bones and make your gate, but no matter how wonderful the gate might be, that alone doesn’t make it a living, breathing novel. A story is not something of this world. A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ So even if you get to 28 without any breaks coming your way, and your parents cut off your funds and your left without a penny, well—so what? Maybe you’ll go a little hungry, but that might be a good experience for a writer.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
“ Like a block of ice left out in the sun, she might very well disappear.
— Sputnik Sweetheart- Haruki Murakami
