Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.”
― Mahmoud Darwish, Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems

“Who am I to say to you
what I’m saying?”
― Mahmoud Darwish

“Everything around me looks like me
and I look like nothing here”
― Mahmoud Darwish

“And writing is not enough for me to declare:
I found my presence filling in absence
and whenever I searched for myself I found others
and whenever I searched for them I found only myself
the stranger
Am I a crowd of one?”
― Mahmoud Darwish

“It told a story with the way colours and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of... of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No- not sparkling, but... effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world...”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Isn't that what the process of making the art is for, to reveal yourself who you truly are? Let the blank page whisper to you.”
― Jen Malone, The Arrival of Someday

“I've asked you so many Golub words over the years." She looked up at him. Her eyes glistened. "But what's the Golub word for 'love'?"
"Love," he repeated. "Th-there's more than one word for love. There's friendship love---silan. Gratitude love---baya. Nostalgic love---ruman. There's... there are forty words for love."
"What if, hypothetically, you feel all those ways about someone?"
"Hypothetically?"
"No." She held his gaze. "Actually not hypothetically at all."
Looking into her eyes, Raf found himself unable to speak.
"I... I started working on that mural randomly. I didn't even plan it out properly. What did it matter? Not like anyone's given a crap about that mural since the storm came through. And what did I end up creating? The dolphins we swam with," she said. "The sandcastles we made together. Everything on there... Do you see it, Raf?"
There was Main Street---the movie theater. Tilted Tales, where they sat for hours on end reading comics. The entire street was there, but it was both of these locations that shone with a sheen of glitter. He took it all in.
"It's us," he said slowly. "You painted our places. Our favorite memories."
"I love you, Raf." Her voice quivered. "Silan---the friendship one. Baya, the gratitude one. Ruman. Nostalgia for what we were. All of it. I love you in all the ways I know.”
― Aisha Saeed, Forty Words for Love