ورای یک ذهن منطقی

The more we talked, the more we realized we had in common: our love of books and music; not to mention cats. But there was one major difference between us—more than I did, Shimamoto consciously wrapped herself inside a protective shell. Unlike me, she made an effort to study the subjects she hated, and she got good grades. When the school lunch contained food she hated, she still ate it. In other words, she constructed a much taller defensive wall around herself than I ever built. What remained behind that wall, though, was pretty much what lay behind mine.

South of the Border, West of the Sun - Haruki Murakami