The words that kept stuck in my brain

From: The Domesticated Brain by Bruce Hood.

Feelings and emotions are two sides of the same coin. Emotions are short-lived, outward responses to an event that everyone around can read, like a sudden burst of anger or fit of laughing, but feelings are the internal lingering experiences that are not always for public consumption. We can have feelings without expressing them as emotions. They are part of our internal mental life. Without feelings, we would not be motivated to do the things we do. Feelings we get from others are some of the strongest motivation that we can have. Without feelings, there would be no point getting out of bed in the morning. Even pure logic needs feelings. When se solve a puzzle, it is not enough to know the answer. You have to feel good about it too. Why else would we bother?


[Enter here]


Sometimes, the world seemed full of emptiness. A world filled with nothing, of nothing. There was the known, the unknown, and the strange.

It was a feeling I had a long time ago. Or maybe it has been a feeling, a long time ago. I guess but I’m not sure, because I can’t remember properly. Sometimes it makes me doubt, if I ever felt it, really felt it. If I ever, really understood it. If I ever, really knew it.

I know feelings from books, from movies, from ways people describe them. I try to translate them in to my own life, my own perspectives, but all that ever happens, is that I imagine I know how it should be. I wonder, if I ever really know or feel. I guess truth is just a word that exists in the dictionary, but in real, it’s just the empty word.

From the blind assassin


” A space that defines itself by not being there at all”

” Tell me where it hurts…. but some people can’t tell where it hurts”

” More and more I feel like a letter, deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one”

“There’s no place like home. No place=home. Therefore, home=no place. Therefore, home does not exist. Home is where the heart is, I thought now…..I had no heart anymore, it had been broken; or not broken, it simply wasn’t there anymore.”

“So that’s how …


“So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from us–that’s snatched right out of our hands–even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

“Sometimes fate…


“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing direction. You change direction, but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm is not something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right into the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand does not get in, and walk through it, step by step. There is no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverised bones. That is the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.”
— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore