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âJust when I was beginning to forget, that bird of ill-omen came flapping my way, to rip open with its beak the wounds of memory.â
Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human
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âHoriki at heart did not treat me like a full human being. He could only consider me as the living corpse of a would-be suicide, a person dead to shame, an idiot ghost. His friendship had no other purpose but to utilize me in whichever way would most further his own pleasures.â
Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human
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âHe was dead, that familiar, frightening presence who had never left my heart for a split second. I felt as though the vessel of my suffering had become empty, as if nothing could interest me now. I had lost even the ability to suffer.â
Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human
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âShe understood the fear. Not knowing what the future would be for her, not knowing how long sheâd be like this. Seeing people who were moving on was enough to make her feel an excruciating pain in her chest.â
Mizuki Tsujimura, Lonely Castle in the Mirror
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âAlone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body.â
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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âI am trying to expose a secret told to nobody yet; [âŚ] whether I am doomed always to cause repulsion in those I love?â
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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âSomething now leaves me; something goes from me to meet that figure who is coming and assures me that I know him before I see who it is. [âŚ] Yet how painful to be recalled, to be mitigated, to have one's self adulterated, mixed up, become part of another.â
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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âI wish, then after this somnolence to sparkle, many faceted under the light of my friends' faces. I have been traversing the sunless territory of non-identity.â
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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âBut I wasnât crying because I was sad. I guess I was crying because we had nowhere else to go, no choice but to go on living in this world. Crying because we had no other world to choose, and crying at everything before us, everything around us.â Mieko Kawakami - Heaven
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âAt first, my desire to die was a desire to disappear. I wanted to erase myself and feel real peace. But if dying doesnât actually involve a moment where you die, could I really disappear? Wouldnât death basically mean wandering around forever, in something like a dream? It made me wonder: who could tell the difference between living in this world and living in a dream?â Mieko Kawakami - Heaven
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"Without school, I could get by without seeing anyone or being seen by anyone. It was like being a piece of furniture in a room that nobody uses. I can't express how safe it felt never being seen. I knew the peace could never last, but it was immensely comforting to know that, if I never left my room, no one in the world could lay a finger on me. The flip side was I had no way of engaging with the world, but that was how it had to be."
Mieko Kawakami - HeavenÂ
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âI constantly told myself it would be better to die than become a lukewarm person [...], a person who wants only to be loved without knowing how to love.â
Yukio Mishima, Confessions of a Mask
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Franz Kafka - Briefe an Milena (Letters to Milena) âSeptember 1920 On Wednesday you will go to the post office and there will be no letter there - except the one from Saturday. I couldnât write in the office because I wanted to work and couldnât work because I thought of us. In the afternoon, I couldnât get out of bed, not because I was too tired but rather too âheavyâ, again and again this word, itâs the only one that suits me, do you understand it? Itâs approximately the heaviness of a ship that has lost its helm and says to the waves: âIâm too heavy for me, too light for you.â But itâs not quite like this either, similes canât express it. But essentially I didnât write because I had this vague feeling that I had so much and such vitally important things to write to you that no spare time would be enough to gather the strength to do so. Itâs like this also.â
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I will take my anguish and lay it upon the roots under the beech trees. I will examine it and take it between my fingers. They will not find me. I shall eat nuts and peer for eggs through the brambles and my hair will be matted and I shall sleep under hedges and drink water from ditches and die there.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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He does not exist here, with me, but flesh that does not exist will never die, and promises unmade are never broken.
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
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His huge wings ceaselessly beat at the air, a few shiny black feathers coming loose, swirling around like fragments of a soul.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
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