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“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh!" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. "I just wanted to be sure of you.”
― A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

“Where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.

- Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College”
― Thomas Gray, Gray and Collins: Poetical Works

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”
― Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

“Every time you come in yelling that God damn "Rise and Shine!" "Rise and Shine!" I say to myself, "How lucky dead people are!”
― Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

“What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains.”
― Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire

“In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.”
― Robert Frost

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“لا تصدق أن الأشياء مضرة بالصحة. وحدهم الأشخاص مضرّون. وقد يلحقون بك من الأذى أكثر مما تلحق بك الأشياء التي تصرّ وزارة الصحة على تحذيرك من تعاطيها. ولذا كلَّما تقدَّم بي العمر, تعلَّمت أن أستعيض عن الناس بالأشياء, أن أحيط نفسي بالموسيقى والكتب والقهوة, فهي على الأقل لا تكيد لك, ولا تغدر بك. إنها واضحة في تعاملها معك. والأهم من هذا أنها لا تنافقك ولا تهينك ولا يعنيها أن تكون زبّالاً أو جنرالاً”
― احلام مستغانمي

“لم يدخل الي��ود من حدودنا،
و إنما،
تسربوا كالنمل من عيوبنا”
― نزار قباني

“بُلينا بقوم يظنون أن الله لم يهد سواهم.”
― ابن سينا

“أنت لا تكر��ني ، أنت تكر�� الصورة التي كونتها عني ، وهذه الصورة ليست أنا إنما هي أنت!”
― أدونيس

“يا أيها الموتى بلا موت ؛
تعبت من الحياة بلا حياة
وتعبت من صمتي
ومن صوتي
تعبت من الرواية والرواةِ
ومن الجناية والجناة
ومن المحاكم والقضاة
وسئمت تكليس القبور
وسئمت تبذير الجياع
على الأضاحي والنذور”
― سميح القاسم

“What Paul says about Peter tells us more about Paul than about Peter”
― Baruch Spinoza

“You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?”
― Rumi

“أنتم لا تبكون موتاكم، أنتم تبكونكم بعدهم. تبكون ما أخذوه برحيلهم. يخلفونكم بلا جدار تتكئون عليه، وأمك حِصَّة جدارٌ، رغم تصدعاته، كان متأكم الآمن. ترك غيابها غصة في حلوقكم، لا أنتم قادرون على لفظها ولا على ابتلاعها.”
― سعود السنعوسي, فئران أمي حصة

“وحدها الروائح قادرة على الوفاء للمكان زمن التخلي”
― سعود السنعوسي, فئران أمي حصة

“expect sadness
like
you expect rain.
both,
cleanse you.”
― Nayyirah Waheed

“If someone does not want me it is not the end of the world. But if I do not want me, the world is nothing but endings.”
― Nayyirah Waheed

“Night flight to San Francisco; chase the moon across America. God, it’s been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air, as close as I’ll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there’s a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that’s so.”
― Tony Kushner, Perestroika

“Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave
and eats a bread it does not harvest.

Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero,
and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.

Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream,
yet submits in its awakening.

Pity the nation that raises not its voice
save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox,
whose philosopher is a juggler,
and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking

Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again.

Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years
and whose strongmen are yet in the cradle.

Pity the nation divided into fragments,
each fragment deeming itself a nation.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet