Haruki Murakami Quotes
Have You Heard Of The Illness Hysteria Siberiana? Try To Imagine This: You're A Farmer, Living All Alone On The Siberian Tundra. Day After Day You Plow Your Fields. As Far As The Eye Can See, Nothing. To The North, The Horizon, To The East, The Horizon, To The South, To The West, More Of The Same. Every Morning, When The Sun Rises In The East, You Go Out To Work In Your Fields. When It's Directly Overhead, You Take A Break For Lunch. When It Sinks In The West, You Go Home To Sleep. And Then One Day, Something Inside You Dies. Day After Day You Watch The Sun Rise In The East, Pass Across The Sky, Then Sink In The West, And Something Breaks Inside You And Dies. You Toss Your Plow Aside And, Your Head Completely Empty Of Thought, Begin Walking Toward The West. Heading Toward A Land That Lies West Of The Sun. Like Someone, Possessed, You Walk On, Day After Day, Not Eating Or Drinking, Until You Collapse On The Ground And Die. That's Hysteria Siberiana.
Related Authors
- Bat For Lashes
- Doug Cushman
- Genevieve Gorder
- Lenny Kravitz
- Lily Foster
- Lyndi Alexander
- Michala Wrong, In The Footsteps Of Mr Kurtz
- Rudolf Hoss
- Sharon Lee
- Stephen McDonough
- Suzanne Corkin
- Wendy Mulford
Related Topics
-
Quotes About Aquatic Plants
At the pet store he picked out two painted turtles, each about as big around as a mayonnaise-jar lid. He bought them a large kidney shaped dish that had its — Christopher Moore
-
Quotes About Bubba
I just want to be me and play golf. — Bubba Watson
-
Quotes About Caring For Others That Don't Care
I don't really know a whole lot about complicated, worldly things. But I think parents and siblings, they need to be able to care for each other unconditionally. How many — Mohiro Kitoh
-
Quotes About Telling Someone To Kill Themselves
Telling me your name wouldn't kill you. Did you hear me tell you my name's Mitch? I'd really like to hear you use it when I'm fucking you later. — Kindle Alexander
-
Father Son And Grandson Quotes
Blackadder was fifty-four and had come to editing Ash out of pique. He was the son and grandson of Scottish schoolmasters. His grandfather recited poetry on firelight evenings: Marmion, Childe — A.S. Byatt