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Men Without Women

This book is a compilation of short stories that delve into the intricacies of human connections and the male experience, offering readers a nuanced look at the human condition. more

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Haruki Murakami

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“Have you ever tried really hard not to love somebody too much?” “Why?” “It’s simple, really. If I love her too much, it’s painful. I can’t take it. I don’t think my heart can stand it, which is why I’m trying not to fall in love with her.” “What are you doing, exactly, so that you don’t love her too much?” “I’ve tried all kinds of things,” he said. “But it all boils down to intentionally thinking negative thoughts about her as much as I can. I mentally list as many of her defects as I can come up with—her imperfections, I should say. And I repeat these over and over in my head like a mantra, convincing myself not to love this woman more than I should.” “Has it worked?” “No, not so well.”

Men Without Women
Book:Hombres sin mujeres
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“Here's what hurts the most," Kafuku said. "I didn't truly understand her--or at least some crucial part of her. And it may well end that way now that she's dead and gone. Like a small, locked safe lying at the bottom of the ocean. It hurts a lot." Tatsuki thought for a moment before speaking. "But Mr. Kafuku, can any of us ever perfectly understand another person? However much we may love them?”

Haruki MurakamiMen Without WomenDrive My Car
Author:Haruki Murakami
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“Her endless complaining was finally too much for Sara to take. "Oh, good Lord, that's enough," she exclaimed impatiently. "I'm going to die," Joyce moaned. "Unfortunately that's not the case. The bullet passed cleanly through your shoulder, the bleeding's stopped, and whatever discomfort you feel isn't nearly enough to make up for all you've done," Sara continued with growing exasperation. "The first time I met Derek was on the night you had his face slashed, and ever since then you've harassed and tormented us both. You brought this on yourself!" "You're enjoying my suffering," Joyce whined. "Somehow I can't dredge up much sympathy for a woman who's just tried to kill me! And when I think of the cruel, callous way you destroyed Derek's club..." "He'll always hate me for that," Joyce whispered in satisfaction. "I'll always have that part of him, at least." "No," Sara said firmly. "I'm going to fill his life with such happiness that he'll have no room to hate anyone. He won't spare you a thought. You'll be nothing to him.”

Sara FieldingJoyce Ashby
Book:Dreaming of You
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“Agitatedly she touched the heavy necklace at her throat, worrying the smooth emeralds between her fingers. "Give that to me," Joyce said sharply, watching her. "The necklace?" "Yes, take it off." Joyce watched as Sara unhooked the glittering treasure from her neck. "A peasant woman with a necklace fit for a queen," she sneered. "You don't have the grace or bearing to wear it properly. Give it to me." Her eager fingers wrapped around the necklace, and she snatched it away. Setting it on the seat beside her, she toyed lovingly with the web of emeralds and diamonds. "He gave me presents... a bracelet, a necklace, jeweled combs for my hair... but nothing as fine as this." She smiled at Sara tauntingly. "The day he gave me the combs, he said that he'd imagined making love to me wearing jewels in my golden hair and nothing else. He much prefers blond hair to dark, did you know that?”

Sara FieldingJoyce Ashby
Book:Dreaming of You
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