Miura Quotes

Hate is a place where a man who can't stand sadness goes

In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least it is true that man has no control, even over his own will. Man takes up the sword in order to shield the small wound in his heart sustained in a far-off time beyond remembrance. Man wields the sword so that he may die smiling in some far-off time beyond perception.

If I have to worry about the ants I crush beneath my feet, I couldn't even walk around

That thing was too big to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough, it was more like a large hunk of iron.

Living for the future is more important than trying to avenge the past.

If you're always worried about crushing the ants beneath you... you won't be able to walk.

Don't forget...when you gaze into the darkness...the darkness gazes back into you.

Man takes up the sword in order to shield the small wound in his heart sustained in a far-off time beyond remembrance. Man wields the sword so that he may die smiling in some far-off time beyond perception.

The place I belong...Maybe it did exist. I was too stupid and stubborn to notice it, but what I really wished for back then was here. Why do I always see these things after they're done and gone?

It's all right. It's like stumbling on a rock on the roadside. It's petty...a small thing. The place you want to go...is more distant farther off. So...it's all right. You'll stand up. And you'll start walking. Soon...

Hate is a place where a man who can't stand sadness goes." - Godo

Even if we painstakingly piece together something lost, it doesn't mean things will ever go back to how they were Berserk

I will never draw my sword for another man again, or be dangled by another mans dream. From now on, I will fight my own battles. -Guts, Berserk

Dreams. Each man longs to pursue his dream. Each man is tortured by this dream, but the dream gives meaning to his life. Even if the dream ruins his life, man cannot allow himself to leave it behind. In this world, is man ever able to possess anything more solid, than a dream?

From where I stand...you're the same as that idol you worship. Completely hollow.

If you meet god, tell him to just leave me alone!

No matter how poor he was at communicating with people, with books he could engage in deep, quiet dialogue.

The leaping of one fish would never disturb the flow of the river.

Among thousands of comrades and ten thousand enemies, only you... only you made me forget my dream

With no relation to social status, class, background, whether it suits them or not, people yearn for a dream. Sustained by a dream, hurt by a dream, revived by a dream, killed by a dream. And even after being abandoned by a dream, it continues to smolder from the bottom of one's heart, probably until the verge of death. A man should envision such a lifetime once. A life spent as a martyr...to the God named "Dream". Ultimately, to be born, and then to simply live for no better reason...I can't abide such a life. They are...excellent troops. Together we have faced death so many times. They are my valuable comrades, devoting themselves to the dream I envision. But to me, a friend is...something else. Someone who would never depend on another's dream. Someone who wouldn't be compelled by anyone, but would determine and pursue his own reason to live...And should anyone trample that dream, he would oppose him body and soul, even if that threat were me myself. What I think a friend is...is one who is my "Equal".

DO NOT PRAY! If you pray, your hands will close together. You will not be able to fight!" -Guts

Ambition comes with a price attached. Of course, that price comes too high if you die for nothing. The reward for ambition too great... is self-destruction!

Even these thoughts will slip my mind in time. And then..... ...only... ...the beat of my heart still remains.

Dreams. Win or lose... I'm sure you could spend your whole life chasing one.

You went alone. You were right beside those irreplacable things...yet you couldn't bear to immerse yourself together in sorrow with them. So instead...you ran away so that your own malice could burn within you.

Things you have now, things you've lost. People who're near by, people who've gone far away. No matter what you choose, truth is, both regret and reluctance are going to follow you around. You just have to make sure you don't make excuses to yourself down the road.

Beneath an unsinking black sun...through the boundless gloom...our journey continues.

The world doesn't extend in merely two dimensions. There exist profound depths within itself. This world could never be summarized by materialism or any single doctrine. Accept the great mysteries...and explore the universe from within your world. That is the way of magic.

A dream… it’s something you do for yourself, not for others

Words and the human heart that creates them are absolutely free, with no connection to the powers that be.

You’re going to be all right. You just stumbled over a stone in the road. It means nothing. Your goal lies far beyond this. Doesn’t it? I’m sure you’ll overcome this. You’ll walk again… soon.' – Guts

It was too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was a heap of raw iron.

What lies deep inside the heart can be a mystery even to oneself.

It's your life. Do what you want with it.

My place really was here. I was too foolish and stubborn to notice. But, what I truly hoped for then was here. Why do I always realize it... when I've already lost it.

If you desire one thing for so long, it’s a given that you’ll miss other things along the way. That’s how it is… that’s life.

It is my perception that a true friend never relies on another's dream. A person with the potential to be my true friend must be able to find his reason for life without my help. And, he would have to put his heart and soul into protecting his dream. He would never hesitate to fight for his dream, even against me. For me, a true friend is one who stands equal in those terms.

A dictionary is a ship that crosses the sea of words,” said Araki, with a sense that he was laying bare his innermost soul. “People travel on it and gather the small points of light floating on the dark surface of the waves. They do this in order to tell someone their thoughts accurately, using the best possible words. Without dictionaries, all any of us could do is linger before the vastness of the deep.

Hate is a place where a man, who can't stand sadness, goes.

I was dreaming. On nights of the full moon I'd become a small child and find myself embraced by nostalgic warmth. But when I wake from the dream all that remains is a faint sense of loneliness. That, too, soon fades away. Along with a single tear like morning dew.

Awakening to the power of words—the power not to hurt others but to protect them, to tell them things, to form connections with them—had taught her to probe her own mind and inclined her to make allowances for other people’s thoughts and feelings.

If she even so much as smiled at him, he would be thrilled to death. This was no mere figure of speech: having never gotten much exercise, Majime had little faith in his cardiovascular system and was not sure that his heart could withstand the impact of a Kaguya smile.

Any dictionary, no matter how well made, was destined to go out of date. Words were living things.

I think I'll try crying and shouting and biting my way through. Maybe I can change something.

Dreams. Win or lose...I'm sure you could spend your whole life chasing one.

However much food you ate, as long as you were alive, you would experience hunger again, and words, however you managed to capture them, would disperse again like phantoms into the void.

We'd lived our lives thinking that there was a special way of living for people who had been discarded.

Struggle. Keep struggling and struggling until the end of ends, then struggle some more. There's no fighting just to die.

What if the interior of a room mirrors the interior of its inhabitant?

A dictionary is a repository of human wisdom not because it contains an accumulation of words but because it embodies true hope, wrought over time by indomitable spirits.

...Maybe I'm once again.../ ...Tryin' to throw away something.../ ...Irreplaceable that I'll never have again?/ To be honest.../ ...As long as I can feel warm.../ ...Isn't that good enough?/ Am I trying to let go.../ ...Of an irreplaceable today for some vague tomorrow I might never find... If it even exists...?/ Even without some big, exaggerated dream.../ ...People go on living.

Gathering a huge number of words together with as much accuracy as possible was like finding a mirror without distortion. The less distortion in the word-mirror, the greater chance that when you opened up to someone and revealed your inner self, your feelings and thoughts would be reflected there with clarity and depth. You could look together in the mirror and laugh, weep, get angry.

Words were necessary for creation. Kishibe imagined the primordial ocean that covered the surface of the earth long ago—a soupy, swirling liquid in a state of chaos. Inside every person there was a similar ocean. Only when that ocean was struck by the lightning of words could all come into being. Love, the human heart . . . Words gave things form so they could rise out of the dark sea.

Although some of the people at church rejected and even denounced me, this did not particularly hinder me in my search. Rather, the fact that there were church people as weak and foolish as I was myself gave me a deep sense of reassurance. Arrogantly I thought, 'If God accepts that sort of person, isn't it possible thatHe will even accept me?' And I began to read the Bible more attentively.

I don’t want what another man can give me. If he grants me anything, then it’s his to give and not my own.” – Guts

I'm scared!!/ But it means I want to live!!

There’s no paradise for you to escape to."-Guts,Lost Children Arc

Reading the dictionary could awaken you to new meanings of commonly used words, meanings of surprising breadth and depth.

If you spend too much time focused on the dead or broken, you'll find death perched on your shoulder...

You're going to be alright. You just stumbled over a stone in the road. It means nothing. Your goal lies far beyond this, doesn't it? I'm sure you'll overcome this. You'll walk again...soon.

Whatever different words you use to express [your scriptures].../ The mantras chanted may differ, but are not souls in want of salvation all the same?/ To divide and oppress people because of those differences is folly.

You have the strongest armour because you are the weakest!

And however perfectionist you tried to be, in the end words were alive, in constant flux. No dictionary could ever achieve true completion.

People are shallow things. If anyone has even a bit more than they do, they're jealous, and if one has less, they look down on her.

It was like being a sheep wandering into a pack of wolves./ A unilateral... fear of the unknown.

Because he who bears light exists in the deepest shadow. And it is within darkness that true light is discovered.

Love (noun): a feeling of special affection for a particular member of the opposite sex that causes exhilaration and the desire to be alone with that person and share a sense of emotional intimacy, including, if possible, physical intimacy, so that one fluctuates between a state of despair when unfulfilled and, on rare occasions of fulfillment, one of delight.

Whether it succeeded or not was of secondary importance; first, I had to do it. Then I would experience the fullness of life as I went along. That was my only possible way of living.

Humans desired reasons; reasons for pain, reasons for sadness, reasons for life, reasons for death. Why were their lives filled with suffering? Why were their deaths absurd? They wanted reasons for the destiny that kept transcending their knowledge and that was GOD.

Shino looked at me straight in the eye and smiled, her face brimming with a kind of inner strength. That strength seemed to gather the beads of perspiration that glistened on her brow, then sprang from her face and leapt across to my heart with a rhythm like ripples on water.

Someone who wouldn’t be in a hurry to interfere with her world and what she wants to do. I think it’s better if two people don’t expect too much of each other. Live and let live.

You cannot use a word properly if you don’t know precisely what it means.

It’s strange, the way wherever you are, you feel like there’s too much of some things and not enough of others. I wonder if it’s that way for everybody.

Sadness is a dagger that's been sharpened to strike at your heart. As days pass, it only gets sharper and sharper.

Did you feel the water get a little warmer just now?” asked Old Man Saburo. “I peed in it for you.

meow's this?' - Kyo, Blue Box

Human beings had created words to communicate with the dead, and with those yet unborn.

Running around won’t make the trees grow faster. Get plenty of rest, eat hearty, and tomorrow take what comes”: that

Like you said, humans are weak. We die easily. But no matter how weak we are, even if we're being chopped to bits or stabbed to death, we still want to live.

Maybe that’s what a god is truly like. Someone who’s not far off in the sky but right in our hearts, always watching. Keeping an eye on our words and deeds, our lies and our truth.

When you start feeling like you’ve got the hang of things, that’s when you’re most in danger. Don’t let yourself get complacent.

Only the moon never sleeps. From the window, it peers in on my heart.

Whatever strange thing happens on the mountain, it’s not strange at all.

I cried out.../ ...A cry like both a baby's first and a dying man's last.../ ...in a voiceless voice.

Since that day I worried I'd been wandering the night. But I had forgotten that this is a world, upon which the sun does rise.

Kamusari villagers are really easygoing,

Naa-naa.” (Lovely day.)

Why is it that men enjoy little more than shedding blood?

There’s no paradise for you to escape to.

Expectations and demands that weigh too heavy are poison. You’ll be worn down in the end, when you don’t get what you’re looking for. You’ll wind up exhausted, resigned, and alone, unable to trust anyone.

A dictionary is a ship that crosses the sea of words,” said Araki, with a sense that he was laying bare his innermost soul. “People travel on it and gather the small points of light floating on the dark surface of the waves. They do this in order to tell someone their thoughts accurately, using the best possible words. Without dictionaries, all any of us could do is linger before the vastness of the deep.” “We

The thing about hatred... it's the place where people who can't look sorrow in the eye without waverin' run off to. Even more than a blood-rusted sword, vengeance is somethin' you soak and sharpen in blood. You sink the blade called your heart deep into blood in order to fix the nicks called sorrow. The more you sharpen, the more it rusts, so you sharpen it again. In the end all that's left is a pile of rust and scraps.

Ode to the Beloved’s Hips" Bells are they—shaped on the eighth day—silvered percussion in the morning—are the morning. Swing switch sway. Hold the day away a little longer, a little slower, a little easy. Call to me— I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock right now—so to them I come—struck-dumb chime-blind, tolling with a throat full of Hosanna. How many hours bowed against this Infinity of Blessed Trinity? Communion of Pelvis, Sacrum, Femur. My mouth—terrible angel, ever-lasting novena, ecstatic devourer. O, the places I have laid them, knelt and scooped the amber—fast honey—from their openness— Ah Muzen Cab’s hidden Temple of Tulúm—licked smooth the sticky of her hip—heat-thrummed ossa coxae. Lambent slave to ilium and ischium—I never tire to shake this wild hive, split with thumb the sweet- dripped comb—hot hexagonal hole—dark diamond— to its nectar-dervished queen. Meanad tongue— come-drunk hum-tranced honey-puller—for her hips, I am—strummed-song and succubus. They are the sign: hip. And the cosign: a great book— the body’s Bible opened up to its Good News Gospel. Alleluias, Ave Marías, madre mías, ay yay yays, Ay Dios míos, and hip-hip-hooray. Cult of Coccyx. Culto de cadera. Oracle of Orgasm. Rorschach’s riddle: What do I see? Hips: Innominate bone. Wish bone. Orpheus bone. Transubstantiation bone—hips of bread, wine-whet thighs. Say the word and healed I shall be: Bone butterfly. Bone wings. Bone Ferris wheel. Bone basin bone throne bone lamp. Apparition in the bone grotto—6th mystery— slick rosary bead—Déme la gracia of a decade in this garden of carmine flower. Exile me to the enormous orchard of Alcinous—spiced fruit, laden-tree—Imparadise me. Because, God, I am guilty. I am sin-frenzied and full of teeth for pear upon apple upon fig. More than all that are your hips. They are a city. They are Kingdom— Troy, the hollowed horse, an army of desire— thirty soldiers in the belly, two in the mouth. Beloved, your hips are the war. At night your legs, love, are boulevards leading me beggared and hungry to your candy house, your baroque mansion. Even when I am late and the tables have been cleared, in the kitchen of your hips, let me eat cake. O, constellation of pelvic glide—every curve, a luster, a star. More infinite still, your hips are kosmic, are universe—galactic carousel of burning comets and Big Big Bangs. Millennium Falcon, let me be your Solo. O, hot planet, let me circumambulate. O, spiral galaxy, I am coming for your dark matter. Along las calles de tus muslos I wander— follow the parade of pulse like a drum line— descend into your Plaza del Toros— hands throbbing Miura bulls, dark Isleros. Your arched hips—ay, mi torera. Down the long corridor, your wet walls lead me like a traje de luces—all glitter, glowed. I am the animal born to rush your rich red muletas—each breath, each sigh, each groan, a hooked horn of want. My mouth at your inner thigh—here I must enter you—mi pobre Manolete—press and part you like a wound— make the crowd pounding in the grandstand of your iliac crest rise up in you and cheer.

The dictionary’s very flaws made the exertions and enthusiasm of its compilers real to his imagination. The vast array of words—entry words, definitions, examples—was cold and impersonal at a glance, yet the book as a whole was the result of people puzzling over their choices.

This place is a drift… Where the dead cling to the living… Drowning in jealousy and yearning. A garbage heap of losers. You said you don't care where. Well what you see is what you get. This is your Eden. There is no paradise for you to escape to. What you'll find… What's there… Is just… A battlefield.

What’s your hobby, Majime?” Nishioka boldly asked, searching for a friendly overture. A bit of wood ear mushroom was sticking out of a corner of Majime’s mouth. He swallowed it and considered the question before answering. “If I had to pick something, I guess it would be watching people get on the escalator.

then the suffering and fear of the living trying to escape that death. the deceit-filled system established to conceal that chaos. the people caught between the order of the crooked system and death. the bizarre festivals where with their own hands they gave shape to the shapeless fear they wished to escape.

I figure there are a couple of reasons why Kamusari villagers are so easygoing. One is that most of them are involved in forestry, where you have to think in cycles of a century; the other is that there’s no place to hang out at night, so when it gets dark everybody just hits the hay. “Running around won’t make the trees grow faster. Get plenty of rest, eat hearty, and tomorrow take what comes”: that seems to be the prevailing philosophy

These people so entranced by dictionaries were outside the bounds of Nishioka’s understanding. He couldn’t even be sure they thought of their work as work. They spent huge sums of their own money on materials, ignoring the limitations of their salaries. Sometimes they stayed in the office looking up things and never even realized they had missed the last train home. They seemed filled with a mad fever. And yet you couldn’t really say they loved dictionaries, either—not given the way they studied and analyzed them with such stunning concentration. There was something almost vindictive in their obsession, as if they were going after an enemy, getting the goods on him. How could they be so wrapped up in making dictionaries? He found their obsession mysterious, with even a whiff of bad taste. And yet—if only Nishioka had something that meant as much to him as dictionaries did to Majime and the rest. Then surely he would see everything differently. He would see a world of such dazzling brightness it would hurt.

Far from dampening Araki’s interest, the discovery that his dictionary wasn’t perfect only fanned his ardor. If some definitions weren’t quite successful, he liked the way they at least made a good effort. The dictionary’s very flaws made the exertions and enthusiasm of its compilers real to his imagination.