Tales from the Cafe

Seasons flow in a cycle. Life too, passes through difficult winters. But after any winter, spring will follow.

We can never truly see into the hearts of others. When people get lost in their own worries they can be blind to the feelings of those most important to them.

There is no greater suffering than that of a parent who is unable to save their own child who wants to die.

When in the presence of someone with whom you have a bond, and to whom you have entrusted your feelings, it is hard to lie and get away with it. The truth just wants to come flowing out. This is especially the case when you are trying to hide your sadness or vulnerability. It is much easier to conceal sadness from a stranger, or from someone you don't trust.

I want to find work that is worth spending a lifetime on

People tend to feel happy when spring arrives, especially after a cold winter. When spring begins, however, cannot be pinpointed to one particular moment. There is no one day that clearly marks when winter ends and spring begins. Spring hides inside winter. We notice it emerging with our eyes, our skin, and other senses. We find it in new buds, a comfortable breeze and the warmth of the sun. It exists alongside winter.

A parent’s love for their child is bottomless. Their children remain children, no matter how old they grow.

Sometimes people will only confide in someone they trust, but other times they need the listener to be a complete stranger.

If you try to find happiness after this, then this child will have put those seventy days towards making you happy. In that case, its life has meaning. You are the one who is able to create meaning for why that child was granted life. Therefore, you absolutely must try to be happy. The one person who would want that for you the most is that child.

If I had led a sad life as a result of my sister's death, then it would have been as if her death had caused it. So, I thought I mustn't allow that to happen. I swore to myself that I would make sure that I was happy. My joy would be the legacy of my sister's life.

The visual and auditory information that enters the mind is distorted by experiences, thoughts, circumstances, wild fancies, prejudices, preferences, knowledge, awareness, and countless other workings of the mind.

As long as he felt that there was someone who would find joy in his success, that was enough for him.

She moved with an impenetrable beauty, as if she was performing a solemn ritual.

It wasn’t that he was dissatisfied with his ordinary life, or was just that from somewhere in his heart he heard, I want to find work that is worth spending a lifetime on.

He thought it was a shame, but there was no point dwelling on things one couldn't control.

For a parent, a child is a child for ever. Never ever expect ing anything in return, she was simply a mother who wanted her child to be happy, always, to shower him with love.

The names of coffee beans mostly derive from where they are grown. In the case of mocha, the beans are grown in Yemen and Ethiopia and named after Yemen’s port city of Mocha, where they were traditionally shipped from. Kilimanjaro beans are grown in Tanzania

When I leave the back to you, I know I' ve got someone I can count on

... but whether someone was married or not was no measure of their happiness

Standing there together next to the tracks as the trains roared and whooshed past for what seemed like for ever, Kinuyo hugged Kazu tightly and stroked her head until she stopped crying. As time passed, the two were swallowed up by the evening darkness.

And if she couldn’t change reality, there was no point returning to the past.

Kiyoshi looked pleased, and smiling broadly, he slowly inhaled over the cup. Upon observing this, Nagare’s narrow eyes arched in pleasure. That the coffee he served in the cafe was never just ordinary was a source of great pride and joy to him. He puffed out his chest with an air of satisfaction and retired behind the counter.

For a parent, a child is a child forever.

There were many times when he felt like giving up, filled with doubt about his talent. He was in his thirties and couldn’t see how he could go on working in casual jobs.

The woman in the dress was not a particularly fast reader. Despite it being the only thing she did, she would finish a book about once every two days.