We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in turn drop, and so on into the unimaginable generations.

You're going to pass something down no matter what you do or if you do nothing. Even if you let yourself go fallow, the weeds will grow and the brambles. Something will grow.

Set aside the load of emotions and enroll a little fun. This way you both lighten and enlighten yourself from something heavy you bear all day.

Enough with these stupid metaphors. They don't do any good.

Written By Haruki Murakami

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