Errors of taste are very often the outward sign of a deep fault of sensibility.

But you must stop playing among his ghosts -- it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.

There were many times my pants were so thin I could sit on a dime and tell if it was heads or tails.

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say

Written By Haruki Murakami

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