Almond Won Pyung Sohn Quotes

Even though my brain was a mess, what kept my soul whole was the warmth of the hands holding mine on both sides

From what I understood, love was an extreme idea. A word that seemed to force something undefinable into the prison of letters. But the word was used so easily, so often. People spoke of love so casually, just to mean the slightest pleasure or thanks.

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I'd never met and lives I'd never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn't experienced could all be found in those volumes.

Lastly, and I know it sounds like an excuse, but neither you nor I nor anyone can ever really know whether a story is happy or tragic.

What does love mean?” Mom asked mischievously. “To discover beauty.

Maybe understanding a language is like understanding the expressions and emotions of other people.

To borrow Granny’s description, a bookstore is a place densely populated with tens of thousands of authors, dead or living, residing side by side. But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then do they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

People shut their eyes to a distant tragedy saying there’s nothing they could do, yet they didn’t stand up for one happening nearby either because they’re too terrified. Most people could feel but didn’t act. They said they sympathized, but easily forgot. The way I see it, that was not real. I didn’t want to live like that.

I've decided to confront it. Confront whatever life throws at me, as I always have. However much I can feel, nothing more, nothing less.

There is no such person who can’t be saved. There are only people who give up on trying to save others. It’s

But books were different. They had lots of blanks. Blanks between words and even between lines. I could squeeze myself in there and sit, or walk, or scribble down my thoughts. It didn’t matter if I had no idea what the words meant. Turning the pages was half the battle.

Once you repeat the same word over and over, there comes a time when its meaning fades.

People said there was no way to understand Gon. I didn’t agree with them. It’s just that nobody ever tried to see through him.

To be more specific, I felt connected to the smell of old books. The first time I smelled them, it was as if I’d encountered something I already knew.

wanted to read between the lines. I wanted to be someone who truly understood the meaning of an author’s words. I wanted to know more people, to be able to engage in deep conversations, and to learn what it was to be human.

Love is what makes a person human, as well as what makes a monster.

...a bookstore is a place densely populated with tens of thousands of authors, dead or living, residing side by side.

Silence was definitely golden.

I had discovered that if I kept quiet when I was expected to get angry, it made me look patient. If I kept silent when I was supposed to laugh, it made me look more serious. And if I kept silent when I was expected to cry, it made me look strong.

Parents start out with grand expectations for their kids. But when things don't go as expected, they just want their kids to be ordinary, thinking it's simple. But son, being ordinary is the hardest thing to achieve,

To be honest, I couldn’t have cared less. Whether I was normal or not made little to no difference. To me, it was as subtle as the differences in the nuance of the words.

We have to be tougher in this tough world.

You eventually just move on with your life. I'm sure others would go back to their normal lives too, eating and sleeping and all, although it may take them longer than me. Humans are designed to move on and keep on living after all.

Ordinary . . .” I mumbled. To be like others. To be ordinary without having experienced terrible ordeals. To go to school, graduate, and if lucky, go to college and get an okay job and meet a woman I like and get married and have kids . . . things like that. Put differently, to not stand out.

So, I’m going to be stronger. In my own way. In the way that feels most natural to me. I like to win. If I can’t protect myself from being hurt, I’d rather hurt other people.

Anyway, this sounds cliche but you'll eventually meet the people who you're meant to meet, no matter what happens. Time will tell if your relationship with him is meant to be.

It seemed to mean that there was more than one answer to everything. Maybe I didn’t need to stick to hard-and-fast rules of dialogue or behavior. Since everyone was different, my “odd reactions” could be normal to some people.

Dora found beauty in everything. She found nature’s magnificent work and incredible symmetry in a turtle’s carapace, or a stork’s egg, or an autumn reed from a swamp. How wonderful, she would often say. I understood the meaning of the word, but I could never feel the splendor it carried.

Mom said everything was for my sake, calling it love. But to me, it seemed more like we were doing this out of her own desperation not to have a child that was different. Love, according to Mom’s actions, was nothing more than nagging about every little thing, with teary eyes, about how one should act such and such in this and that situation. If that was love, I’d rather neither give nor receive any. But of course, I didn’t say that out loud. That was all thanks to one of Mom’s codes of conduct—Too much honesty hurts others—which I had memorized over and over so that it was stuck in my brain.

a bookstore is a place densely populated with tens of thousands of authors, dead or living, residing side by side. But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then so they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

was just unlucky. Luck plays a huge part in all the unfairness of the world. Even more than you’d expect.

To me, that’s like being asked, Why do you live? Do you live for any purpose? Let’s be honest, we just live because we’re alive.

Whenever life pulled brutal pranks on him, Gon would think that life was like having your mom hold your hands one moment, warm and safe, then suddenly drop them with no explanation. No matter how hard he tried to grab hold, he was always abandoned in the end.

What does it mean to be like others? When everyone is different, who should I follow? What would Mom say?

I shall love thee. Even if I can never know whether my love would be a sin or poison or honey, I shall not stop this journey of loving thee.

Does growing mean changing?" "Probably. For better or for worse," he replied.

Books and the aroma of coffee. They were the perfect combination

If you think about it that way, then it would’ve been better if Gon had never been born. Because, more than anything, he wouldn’t have had to feel so much pain and loss. But everything loses its meaning if you think that way. Only purpose remains. Barren.

Granny, why do people call me weird?” “Maybe it’s because you’re special. People just can’t stand it when something is different.

You're basically a blank canvas. Better to fill it up with good things rather than bad things.

Luck plays a huge part in all the unfairness of the world. Even more than you’d expect.

Everyone thinks "ordinary" is easy and all, but how many of them would actually fit into the so-called smooth road the word implied? It sure was a lot harder for me, someone who was not born ordinary. That didn't mean I was extraordinary. I was just a strange boy wandering around somewhere in between. So I decided to give it a try. To become ordinary.

I felt my body had outpaced my mind, and that it was as unnecessary and bothersome as a long overcoat in summer. I wanted so much to take it off. If only I could.

Writing would mean she'd have to sell her own life, and she didn't have the confidence to do that. Basically, she didn't have the guts to be a writer.

Anything will lose its meaning if you repeat it often enough," she said. "At first you feel you are getting the hang of it, but then as time goes by, you feel like the meaning's changing and becoming tarnished. Then, finally, it gets lost. Completely fades to white.

Unfortunately, I was no genius.

She always called me a monster. To her, that wasn’t a bad thing.

Humans are designed to move on and keep on living, after all.

lives I’d never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn’t experienced could all be found in those volumes.

I also felt comfortable at our bookstore-home. Other people might say they “like” it or even “love” it, but in my vocabulary, “comfortable” was the best scale.

Old books seem all right, though. They have a richer scent that’s more alive. Like how autumn leaves smell.

People sometimes say how cool it'd be to be fearless, but they don't know what they're talking about. Fear is an instinctive defense mechanism necessary for survival. Not knowing fear doesn't mean that you're brave; it means you're stupid enough to stay standing on the road when a car is charging toward you.

Well. Only your heart knows,” he said, still smiling. “You mean my brain, not my heart. We do whatever the brain tells us to do.” “Technically, yes, but we still say it’s from our heart.

Suddenly, the wind changed course. Dora’s hair slowly changed direction too, whipping over to the opposite side. The breeze carried her scent to my nose. It was a scent I hadn’t smelled before. It smelled like fallen leaves, or the first buds in spring. The kind of smell that evoked contrary images all at once. I

To me, that's like being asked, Why do you live? Do you live for any purpose? Let's be honest, we just live because we're alive. When things are great we're happy, and when things aren't, we cry. Same with running. I'll be happy when I win, I'll be sad when I don't. When I feel I haven't got it, I'll blame myself or regret starting this in the first place. But then I'll still run. Just because! Like living life. That's all!

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I'd never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn't experienced could all be found in those volumes.

Yes. I know. That Gon is a good kid. But if someone asked me to talk about him in more detail, I'd only be able to say that he beat me and hurt me, he ripped apart a butterfly, he set his face against the teachers, and threw things at my classmates. That's how language is. It is as hard as proving that Leesu and Gon are the same person. So, I simply said, "I just know he is.

From now on this is an entirely different story. Completely new and unpredictable. I do not know how this story will unfold. As I said, neither you nor I nor anyone can ever know whether a story is happy or tragic. It may be impossible to categorize a story so neatly in the first place. Life takes on various flavors as it flows. I've decided to confront it. Confront whatever life throws at me, as I always have. And however much I can feel, nothing more, nothing less.

It’s not necessarily that I was unable to express feelings, but more that I was unable to identify them in the first place.

I drifted off to sleep only at daybreak when the sky turned sapphire.

It was incorrect to say I was fine to her question yesterday. You can just leave me alone. That was what I should've said.

I wonder what it means to get beaten by a father you're reunited with for the first time in a dozen years. Before even having the chance to get to know each other.

The Mom who shared the details of my life and hers with somebody was not the Mom I knew. It was a relief to hear that she had that somebody.

Will I live like this my entire life, feeling nothing at all?” I asked after slurping down a bowl of udon.

People just can’t stand it when something is different, aigoo, my adorable little monster.

Anyway, this sounds like cliché but you’ll eventually meet the people who you’re meant to meet, no matter what happens.

Children are born every day. They all deserve blessings and to have every possibility open to them. But some of them will grow up to be social outcasts, some will rule and command but with twisted minds. Some, although very few, will succeed against all odds and grow into people who touch hearts.

nail on the wall must’ve pricked my leg, because it was bleeding. Gon saw and started weeping like a child. Yes, this was who he was. The kind of person who tears up at a drop of blood, who feels pain for others’ pain.

Before I had time to think, her lips brushed against my lips. They felt like a cushion. Her soft, moist lips slowly pressed into mine. And just like that, we breathed three times. Our chests moved up and down, and up and down, and up and down. Then we lowered our heads at the same time. Our lips parted as our foreheads touched.

After leaving for love, she didn’t want to come back bringing all her misfortune into the house. And so seven years passed. During those years, Mom tried to get by and held out until she realized all this enduring was no use. Until the very brink of a breakdown. Until she finally realized she couldn’t bear it—bear me—on her own anymore.

I wish I could never feel fear, pain, guilt, everything . . .” he had said in a teary voice. “That’s not something anyone can just do. Besides, you are too full of emotions. I think you’d rather make a good artist or a musician,” I’d said after some thought.

His shoulders, which had been hunched and still, gradually sank. His face turned wrinkly like a deflated balloon. His head slowly hanging low, his knees buckled. His body was shaking, his head sunk down against his chest. There was no sound, but I knew he was crying. I looked down at him, saying nothing. I felt like I'd become uselessly taller.

Can the word "love" be thrown around so casually like that?

unmarried woman of words

Too much honesty hurts others — which I had memorized over and over so that it was stuck in my brain.

<...> every story becomes boring once the ending is spoiled.

It is not a race, it's just running. All we need to do is simply feel our bodies splitting the air.

Before long, as quickly as foam disolves, even those subjects were no longer talked about. It took only ten days.

But son, being ordinary is the hardest thing to achieve,

So do you. So do those you love and those you hate. No one can feel them. You just know they are there.

At last, I became human. And at that very moment, the world was drifting far away from me. In fact, this is the end of my story.

I know what’s best for my child.

There is no such person who can’t be saved. There are only people who give up ok trying to save others.

Do you live for any purpose? Let's be honest, we just live because we're alive.

People's eyes light up when they talk about things they love.

Human beings are a product of their education, after all. You can do it.

People just can't stand it when something is different.

That's what practice can offer - miracles and also limitations.

Now I understood a little what it meant to be frightened. It was like desperately gasping for air in a place without oxygen.

People’s eyes light up when they talk about things they love. Dora’s were radiant.

If somebody was sad for my sadness, then I should be happy. The principle that two negatives made a positive.

But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then do they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

I fell silent for a while, trying to find the words to convince him. But I was too young to have much vocabulary, and I couldn’t think of anything else truer than what I had already said.

Mom said everything was for my sake, calling it love. But to me, it seemed more like we were doing this out of her own desperation not to have a child that was different. Love, according to Mom’s actions, was nothing more than nagging about every little thing, with teary eyes, about how one should act such and such in this and that situation. If that was love, I’d rather neither give nor receive any.

But the human brain is rather a strange thing. And I still truly believe that the heart can prevail over the brain. What I’m trying to say is that you might have just grown in a way that’s a little different from how other people grow.

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I’d never met and lives I’d never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn’t experienced could all be found in those volumes.

Do you think I have a crush on here?" I regretted asking him the question as soon as I asked. "Well. Only your heart knows," he said, still smiling. "You mean my brain, not my heart. We do whatever the brain tells us to do." "Technically, yes, but we still say it's from our heart.

Dora was usually surrounded by people and ate with a group. The groups weren't always the same. She wasn't a loner but she wasn't necessarily attached to certain friends, either. She didn't seem to care who she ate with or who she walked home with. Sometimes she was by herself. Still, she wasn't bullied and never looked out of place. She seemed like someone who could exist on her own.

I do not know how this story will unfold. As I said, neither you nor I nor anyone can ever know wether a story is happy or tragic. It may be impossible to categorize a story so neatly in the first place. Life takes on various flavors as it flows. I´ve decided to confront it. Confront whatever life throws at me, as I always have. And however much I can feel, nothing more, nothing less.

Looking back, Granny must've wanted an ordinary life for Mom, too. But Mom didn't have it. Dr Shim was right--being ordinary was the trickiest path. Everyone thinks "ordinary" is easy and all, but how many of them would actually fit into the so-called smooth road the word implied? It sure was a lot harder for me, someone who was not born ordinary. That didn't mean I was extraordinary. I was just a strange boy wandering around somewhere in between. So I decided to give it a try. To become ordinary.

For one thing, Mom knew Broca and Wernicke were scientists, not patients. She had read all kinds of books about the brain from her regular visits to the local library. She also didn’t like that the doctors saw me as an interesting specimen rather than a human being. She had given up hope early on that the doctors would cure me. All they’d do is put him through weird experiments or give him untested medicines, observe his reactions, and show off their findings at a conference, she wrote in her diary. And so Mom, like so many other overprotective mothers, made a declaration that was both unconvincing and clichéd.

So, I’m going to be stronger. In my own way. In the way that feels most natural to me. I like to win. If I can’t protect myself from being hurt, I’d rather hurt other people.” “How?” “Dunno, but it won’t be too hard. I’m already familiar with that kind of world.” Gon sniggered. I wanted to say something but he was already heading out the door. Then he wheeled around and said, “We might not see each other from now on. So instead of a goodbye kiss, take this.” He winked and slowly raised his middle finger. He wore a soft smile. That was the last time I saw him smile that way. Then he disappeared. And then, tragedy unfolded rapidly.

They don’t really light up when they are stimulated. So I don’t know why people laugh or cry. Joy, sorrow, love, fear—all these things are vague ideas to me. The words “emotion” and “empathy” are just meaningless letters in print.

alexithymia,

Over the next few years, my head grew bigger, but my almonds stayed the same.

Do you need someone to ask you that to know? Haven’t you ever thought about it?

Books and the aroma of coffee. They were the perfect combination, at least in Mom's opinion.

It's not hear fault. No one can stop time, and people go through a lot in life.

I don't feel like looking at those old magazines anymore. It's no fun. It reminds me of how everything beautiful will fade eventually.

Everybody has two almonds inside their head, stuck firmly on somewhere between the back of your ears and the back of your skull. In fact, they’re called “amygdalae,” derived from the Latin word for almond because their size and shape are exactly like one.

Mom said everything was for my sake, calling it love. But to me, it seemed more like we were doing this out of her own desperation not to have a child that was different.

I looked down at him, saying nothing. I felt like I'd become uselessly taller.

The human brain is actually dumber than you think it is

Emotions are tricky businesses. Every little thing around you might feel like sharp weapons.

There are a hundred answers to one question in this world. So it's hard for me to give you a correct answer. And the world is even more of a puzzle at your age when you have to search for answers yourself. But if you still want my advice, let me answer by asking you this: what did Gon do most often to get close to you?

Whenever life pulled brutal pranks on him, Gon would think that life was like having your mom hold your hands one moment, warm and safe, then suddenly drop them with no explanation. No matter how hard he tried to grab hold, he was always abandoned in the end.

She said families walk hand in hand. Granny would hold my other hand. I have never been abandoned by anyone. Even though my brain was a mess, what kept my soul whole was the warmth of the hands, holding mine on both sides.

The breeze carried herself to my nose. It was a scent I hadn't smelled before. It smelled like fallen leaves, or the first bud in spring The kind of smell that evoked contrary images all at once.

People's eyes light up when they talk about things they love. Dora's were radiant.

(Yunjae about Gon) God had given the face of an angel to the wrong person.

People shut their eyes to a distant tragedy saying there's nothing they could do, yet they didn't stand up for one happening nearby either because they're too terrified. Most people could feel but didn't act. They said they sympathized, but easily forgot. The way I see it, that was not real. I didn't want to live like that.

Children long to be loved but at the same time they give the most love. We were once all like that.

Instead, Mom raised her voice for me, turning the police station inro a mad-house, with the clamouring of a parent who'd lost his child, and a parent who'd found hers.

She could be so full of swagger sometimes.

two burger combos,

No sé cómo se desarrollará esta historia. Como he dicho, ni tú ni nadie puede saber en realidad si una historia al final es alegre o trágica".

The two had a special reason for loving the plum candy. Because it has both sweet and blood taste. The candy was white with a mysterious sheen and a red stripe across its surface. Rolling it inside their mouths was one of their precious little joys. The red stripe would often cut their tongues as it melted away first. “I know this sounds funny, but the salty blood taste actually goes well with the sweetness,” Granny would say with a wide smile, a bag of plum candies in her arms, while Mom looked for ointment.

Ordinary . . .” I mumbled. To be like others. To be ordinary without having experienced terrible ordeals. To go to school, graduate, and if lucky, go to college and get an okay job and meet a woman I like and get married and have kids . . . things like that. Put differently, to not stand out.

We push off the ground and break into a run. It is not a race, it’s just running. All we need to do is simply feel our bodies splitting the air.

I looked down at him, saying nothing. I felt like I’d become uselessly taller.

Fear is an instinctive defense mechanism necessary for survival. Not knowing fear doesn’t mean that you’re brave; it means you’re stupid enough to stay standing on the road when a car is charging toward you.

Z drugiej strony intuicja to coś więcej niż przeczucie. Nie spada na ciebie ot tak. Twoja podświadomość gromadzi codzienne doświadczenia i obrabia je analizując dane wejściowe i wyjściowe. Gdy znajdziesz się znów w jakiejś sytuacji, zgadujesz jej rezultat bez udziału świadomości. Zatem intuicja to tak naprawdę łączenie faktów.

Changing expressions in a split second was his thing.

The words didn’t speak to me at all, but it didn’t matter. It was enough that my eyes moved along the words. I smelled the books, my eyes slowly tracing the shape and strokes of each letter.

Love, according to Mom's actions, was nothing more than nagging about every little thing, with teary eyes, about how one should act such and such in this and that situation. If that was love, I'd rather neither give nor recieve any. But of course, I didn't say that out loud. That was all thanks to one of Mom's codes of conduct—Too much honesty hurts others—which I had memorized over and over so that it was stuck in my brain.

Laughing along is one of my hardest acts. I could force my lips to twist upward, but that's the best I could do. A kind of smile so forced, that could easily be misunderstood as a mean sneer.

In fact, Granny had wanted Mom to become a writer. Specifically, she wanted her to be an "unmarried woman of words" who spent her life in solitude yet aged gracefully.

Sebenarnya, firasat itu bukanlah sesuatu yang 'dirasakan secara kebetulan'. Segala hal yang terjadi setiap hari terbagi menjadi beberapa kondisi disertai dengan hasil yang tersusun rapi di dalam kepala. Firasat adalah data yang sangat manusiawi. Sama seperti buah-buahan yang menjadi jus ketika diblender.

Orang-orang terkadang sering lupa seberapa keras volume suara mereka ketika membicarakan orang lain. Orang yang berbicara mungkin berpikir bahwa mereka berbicara dengan suara yang pelan, namun anehnya pembicaraannya akan terdengar di telinga orang lain.

But for some reason, on that particular day, it made me wonder. Can the word "love" be written around so casually like that?

She seemed like someone who could exist on her own

Even though my brain was a mess, what kept my soul whole was the warmth of the hands holding mine on both sides.

The hardest job is transitioning from winter to spring. Frozen ground melting to let sprouts shoot up, colorful flowers blossoming from each dead branch. That’s what tough looks like. As for summer, it simply needs to take a couple more steps forward using the momentum of spring. That’s why I think May is the laziest of all the months. A month that’s overrated.

A person who has no talent for skating will probably not become the best skater even after practicing for months. A tone-deaf person won’t ever sing a perfect aria and get applause either. But with practice, you can at least stumble a step forward on the ice or manage to sing a measure of a song. That’s what practice can offer—miracles and also limitations.

A veces, me perdía en n ensueño sin sentido, imaginando que simplemente se habían ido de viaje a alguna parte. Pero sabía que su viaje sería inter minable. Habían sido todo mi universo. Pero ahora se habían ido, y yo empecé a entender que había otros en este mundo Estas otras personas entraron en mi universo poco a poco.

Hayatın bana geldiği kadarıyla yüzleşeceğim ve yapabildiğim kadarıyla onu hissedeceğim, ne eksik ne fazla.

Su cara se arrugó como un globo desinflado. Fue bajándola lentamente hasta sepultarla entre sus rodillas. Luego todo su cuerpo comenzó a sacudirse. No se oía, pero estaba llorando. Yo me quedé contemplándolo sin decir nada. Me sentí inútilmente alto mirándolo desde arriba.

Su voz, que siempre me rondaba, se hacía cada vez más imprecisa a medida que pasaba el tiempo. Quizás pronto llegaría el día en que la olvidara. Todo lo que conocía se alejaba rápidamente de mí.

Parents start out with grand expectations for their kids. But when things don’t go as expected, they just want their kids to be ordinary, thinking it’s simple. But son, being ordinary is the hardest thing to achieve,” he said.

books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then do they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

I have almonds inside me. So do you. So do those you love and those you hate. No one can feel them. You just know they are there. This story is, in short, about a monster meeting another monster. One of the monsters is me.

The sea breeze was salty and fishy. The kind of smell that erased the seasons and directions altogether.

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I’d never met and lives I’d never witnessed.

People don’t realize how loud they can be when they gossip. Even when they try to whisper, the gossip always goes straight into others’ ears.

Do you know why your heart rate is so high now?" "No." "Your heart's excited because I'm close to you, so it's clapping.

Most people could feel but didn’t act. They said they sympathized, but easily forgot. They way I see it, that was not real.

every story becomes boring once the ending is spoiled.

Life takes on various flavors as it flows.

I felt connected to the smell of old books. The first time I smelled them, it was as if I'd encountered something I already knew.

En realidad, nadie puede saber si una historia terminará en tragedia o comedia. Quizá sea imposible desde el principio clasificar una existencia como una u otra. La vida no hace más que fluir imparable, guardándonos toda clase de sabores.

Books took me to places I could go otherwise. They shared the confessions od people I'd never met and lives I'd never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn't experienced could all be found in those volumes. They were completely different by nature from TV shows or movies.

People spoke of love so casually, just to mean the slightest pleasure or thanks.

J'ai décidé de m'y confronter. De me confronter à tous les défis de la vie, comme je l'ai toujours fait. Et de ressentir ce que je peux, rien de plus, rien de moins.

Soon I might forget her voice entirely. Everything I had known was beginning to fade away from me. Part Three

Too much honesty hurts others.

Anything will lose its meaning if you repeat it often enough.

Everyone thinks "ordinary" is easy and all, but how many of them would actually fit into the so-called smooth road the word implied?

Hunches aren't usually just randomly felt. The brain subconsciously sorts your daily experiences into conditions or results and keeps a growing record of them. And when faced with a similar situation, you unconsciously guess the outcome based on that data. So a hunch is actually a causal link.

It's good to help others if there's no harm.

How does friendship work, usually?" "It means to talk face-to-face, like you and me now. To eat together and share your thoughts. To spend time together with no strings attached. That's what it means to be friends.

...a bookstore is a place densely populated with tens of thousands of authors, dead or living, residing side by side. But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then can they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

It's not always great when you understand emotions that you were once unaware of. Emotions are tricky business. You'll suddenly see the world in a completely new light. Every little thing around you might feel like sharp weapons. A subtle expression or a few words could sting you.

It was their choice to have me, but that doesn't mean that I have to accomplish the missions they've set up. They keep threatening me that I'll regret this, but even if I do regret it, that's my choice to make.

Suddenly a small ember was rekindled in my heart. I wanted to read between the lines. I wanted to be someone who truly understood the meaning of an author's words. I wanted to know more people, to be able to engage in deep conversations, and to learn what it was to be human.

...neither you nor I nor anyone can ever know whether a story is happy or tragic. It may be impossible to categorize a story so neatly in the first place. Life takes on various flavors as it flows.

I know this may be a clichéd conclusion to draw. But I have come to think that love is what makes a person human, as well as what makes a monster.

Why did people know yet pretend not to know?

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I'd never met and lives I'd never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn't experienced could all be found in those volumes. They were completely different by nature from TV shows or movies. The worlds of movies, soap operas, or cartoons were already so meticulous that there were no blanks left for me to fill in.

«Anything will lose its meaning if you repeat it often enough,» she said. «At first you feel you are getting the hang of it, but then as time goes by, you feel like the meaning's changing and becoming tarnished. Then, finally, it gets lost. Completely fades to white.»

But books were different. They had lots of blanks. Blanks between words and even between lines. I could squeeze myself in there and sit, or walk, or scribble down my thoughts.

With whatever money was left over, Mom said she would buy a small espresso machine, Books and the aroma of coffee. They were the perfect combination

Life takes on various flavors as it flows. I’ve decided to confront it. Confront whatever life throws at me, as I always have. And however much I can feel, nothing more, nothing less.

The words “emotion” and “empathy” are just meaningless letters in print.

The peak of summer. Summer. Had that day really existed? When everything was green and lush and full? Everything we’d experienced together, was it truly real?

... remember that the brain grows. The more you use it, the better it becomes. If you use it for bad, you'll grow a bad brain, but if you use it for good, you'll have a good brain.

El miedo es un mecanismo de defensa instintivo, necesario para la supervivencia. No sentir miedo no significa ser valiente; significa que eres lo suficientemente estúpido para permanecer en pie en la carretera cuando un auto se dirige hacia ti”.

La suerte desempeña un papel enorme en la injusticia que existe en el mundo. Incluso más de lo que uno podría esperar”.

Para usar la descripción de la abuela: una librería es un lugar densamente poblado por decenas de miles de autores, muertos o vivos, residiendo unos al lado de otros. Pero los libros son callados. Permanecen en un silencio sepulcral hasta que alguien abre sus páginas. Sólo entonces desvelan sus historias, calmada y cuidadosamente, al ritmo perfecto que yo soy capaz de manejar”.

No sé cómo se desarrollará esta historia. Como he dicho anteriormente, ni tú ni yo ni nadie puede saber en realidad si una historia al final es alegre o trágica. Para empezar, puede que resulte imposible categorizar una historia tan claramente. La vida adopta diferentes vertientes a medida que fluye”.

Well, no, I was thinking, like I hadn’t watched a movie that everybody else had watched. Of course I don’t mind, but if I watched that movie, then I’d have a few more things to talk about with people.” “What an improvement! What you just said implies your willingness to communicate with others.” “Maybe it’s a puberty thing.

Six were dead, and one was wounded that day.

Born this way?” Gon said. “That’s the shittiest thing people say.

But for some reason, my almonds don’t seem to work well.

The words “emotion” and “empathy

Let's take an MRI when you're fully recovered," Dr. Shim said. And redo all your clinical tests too. It's time to check how much your brain has changed. To be honest, I have always doubted your diagnosis. I was a doctor myself once, but doctors like to put labels on patients. It helps them treat abnormal symptoms, or even abnormal people. Of course, labels can often be clear and useful. But the human brain is rather a strange thing. And I still truly believe that the heart can prevail over the brain. What I'm trying to say is that you might have just grown in a way that's a little different from how other people grow." He smiled.

It's good to help others if there's no harm

She always called me a monster. To her, that wasn't a bad thing.

There is no such person who can’t be

waited for the show to finish while the shopkeeper called the police. When he saw me fiddling with the caramel again, he snapped at me to leave if I wasn’t going to buy anything. The police took their time coming to the scene—but all I could think of was the boy lying on the cold ground. He was already dead. The thing is, he was the shopkeeper’s son.

I didn’t know the answer. Gon lowered his head for a while before he said, “Do you know why I kept coming to see you?” “No.” “Two reasons. For one, you didn’t judge me the way other kids do, thanks to your special brain. Though, it’s also thanks to that special brain, I killed a butterfly for nothing. My second reason is . . .” He grinned a little before he continued. “I wanted to ask you something. But fuck, I couldn’t bring myself to ask . . .” There was heavy silence between us. I waited for Gon to speak while the clock ticked. Slowly, he whispered, “What was she like?