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Kazuo Ishiguro OBE FRSA FRSL is a Nobel Prize-winning British novelist, screenwriter, and short story writer. He was born in Nagasaki, Japan; his family moved to England in 1960 when he was five. Wikipedia
Kazuo Ishiguro Quotes
Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.
Sometimes I get so immersed in my own company, if I unexpectedly run into someone I know, it’s a bit of a shock and takes me a while to adjust.
You have to accept that sometimes that’s how things happen in this world. People’s opinions, their feelings, they go one way, then the other. It just so happens you grew up at a certain point in this process.
All children have to be deceived if they are to grow up without trauma.
There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.
You say you’re sure? Sure that you’re in love? How can you know it? You think love is so simple?
She always wanted to believe in things.
The evening’s the best part of the day. You’ve done your day’s work. Now you can put your feet up and enjoy it.
The problem, as I see it, is that you’ve been told and not told. You’ve been told, but none of you really understand, and I dare say, some people are quite happy to leave it that way.
Poor creatures. What did we do to you? With all our schemes and plans?
If you are under the impression you have already perfected yourself, you will never rise to the heights you are no doubt capable of.
I can’t even say I made my own mistakes. Really – one has to ask oneself – what dignity is there in that?
You need to remember that. If you’re to have decent lives, you have to know who you are and what lies ahead of you, every one of you.
After all, what can we ever gain in forever looking back and blaming ourselves if our lives have not turned out quite as we might have wished?
Now when I look back to the Guildford of that time, it seems far more exotic to me than Nagasaki.”
“Our family arrived in England in 1960. At that time I thought the war was ancient history. But if I think of 15 years ago from now, that’s 1990, and that seems like yesterday to me.”
People aren’t quite sure what it means when a book is a Booker Prize winner. They’re not quite sure what is being recommended, what literary values it stands for because every year it stands for something different.”
“People were incredibly kind to our family and went out of their way to help.”
“Screenplays I didn’t really care about, journalism, travel books, getting my writer friends to write about their dreams or something. I just determined to write the books I had to write.”
“The book was at a reasonably high position on the New York Times… before I was in the country. I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see if my presence here would push it up or down.”
“The world is crawling with authors touring now. They’re like performance artists.”
“There are things I am more interested in than the clone thing. How are they trying to find their place in the world and make sense of their lives? To what extent can they transcend their fate? As time starts to run out, what are the things that really matter?”
“There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.”
“There’s a practical problem about time and energy, and a more subtle problem of what it does to a writer’s head, to continually analyze why they write, where it all comes from, where it’s going to.”
“What is difficult is the promotion, balancing the public side of a writer’s life with the writing. I think that’s something a lot of writers are having to face. Writers have become much more public now.”
“When I got to 40 or so… I had the sense when I looked back over my life I would actually see a mess of decisions, a few of which I had thought about, some of which I had sort of stumbled on, and many that I had no control over whatsoever.”
We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we’ve lived through, or feel we’ve had enough time.
A part of us stayed like that: fearful of the world around us, and no matter how much we despised ourselves for it-unable quite to let each other go.
When you are young, there are many things which appear dull and lifeless. But as you get older, you will find these are the very things that are most important to you.
And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind of world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never to let her go.
One is not struck by the truth until prompted quite accidentally by some external event.
It’s all right. I’m not upset. After all, they were just things. When you’ve lost your mother and your father, you can’t care so much about things, can you?
But God will know the slow tread of an old couple’s love for each other, and understand how black shadows make part of its whole.
When Winston Churchill was asked to cut arts funding in favor of the war effort, he simply asked, ‘then what are we fighting for?’.
Memory, I realize, can be an unreliable thing; often it is heavily colored by the circumstances in which one remembers.
How can old wounds heal while maggots linger so richly?
There was surely nothing to indicate at the time that such evidently small incidents would render whole dreams forever irredeemable.