The columns of mounted men moved forward, passed out through the gates of the Palace of Karma, turned off the roadway and headed up the slope that lay to the southeast of the city of Mahartha, comrades blazing like the dawn at their back.

Excelsior! You will never again pray, never again repose in limitless trust - you deny it to yourself to remain halted before an ultimate wisdom, ultimate good, ultimate power, and there unharness your thoughts

Mind and body obstruct one another&#39;s pleasures.

After a certain length of time has passed, things harden up. Like a cement hardening in a bucket. And we can't go back anymore

Written By Haruki Murakami

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