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#kafka on the shore – @anjellynajolie on Tumblr
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who's a heretic now?

@anjellynajolie / anjellynajolie.tumblr.com

started as an angelina jolie fanpage, magnanimously expanded toward more actresses, films and tv shows, thoughts, and more.
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kinkinine
The strength I’m looking for isn’t the type where you win or lose. I’m not after a wall that’ll repel power coming from outside. What I want us the kind of strength to be able to absorb that kind of power, to stand up to it. The strength to quietly endure things - unfairness, misfortunes, sadness, mistakes, misunderstandings.

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via forluisever)

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You sit at the edge if the world, I am in a crater that’s no more. Words without letters Standing in the shadow of the door. The moon shines down on a sleeping lizard, little fish rain down from the sky. Outside the window there are soldiers, steeling themselves to die. Kafka sits in a chair by the shore, Thinking of the pendulum that moves the world, it seems. When your heart is closed, The shadow of the unmoving Sphinx, Becomes a knife that pierces your dreams. The drowning girl’s fingers Search for the entrance stone, and more. Lifting the hem of her azure dress, she gazes~ at Kafka on the shore.

Miss Saeki (via hrajnik)

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nerdalie19

“The shore is visible outside the window. And you can hear the sound of waves, and someone’s voice. There’s a hint of sea in the breeze. And it’s summer. Always it’s summer. Small white clouds are etched against the azure sky.”

http://limbo-.deviantart.com/art/Kafka-on-the-Shore-263124542

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I head into the heart of the forest a hollow man, a void that devours all that’s substantial. So there is nothing to fear. Not a thing. And I head into the heart of the forest.

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via pantsagon)

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And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

Haruki Murakami, in Kafka on the Shore (via letters-to-lolita)

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