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  • #1
    Emil M. Cioran
    “One can experience loneliness in two ways: by feeling lonely in the world or by feeling the loneliness of the world. Individual loneliness is a personal drama; one can feel lonely even in the midst of great natural beauty. An outcast in the world, indifferent to its being dazzling or dismal, self-consumed with triumphs and failures, engrossed in inner drama—such is the fate of the solitary. The feeling of cosmic loneliness, on the other hand, stems not so much from man's subjective agony as from an awareness of the world's isolation, of objective nothingness. It is as if all the splendors of this world were to vanish at once, leaving behind the dull monotony of a cemetery. Many are haunted by the vision of an abandoned world encased in glacial solitude, untouched by even the pale reflections of a crepuscular light. Who is more unhappy? He who feels his own loneliness or he who feels the loneliness of the world? Impossible to tell, and besides, why should I bother with a classification of loneliness? Is it not enough that one is alone?”
    Emil M. Cioran, On the Heights of Despair

  • #2
    Mahmoud Darwish
    “وحدي أدافع عن هواء ٍ ليس لي

    وحدي أدافع عن هواء ٍ ليس لي

    وحدي على سطح المدينة واقف ٌ

    أيوب مات ، وماتت ِ العنقاء ُ ‘ وانصرف َ الصحابة

    وحـــدي . أراود نفسي َ الثكلى فتأبى أن تســاعدني على نفسي

    ووحـــدي …. كنت وحدي

    عندما قاومت وحــدي … وحدة الروح الأخيــرة”
    محمود درويش, مديح الظل العالي

  • #3
    Vita Sackville-West
    “I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this —But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.”
    Vita Sackville-West, The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf

  • #4
    “You’re one of those people who tries to find comfort in overanalyzing old things to make more sense of them, when in reality, complexity is a product of insecurity, and insecurity a product of being unable to accept the simple reality of the situation”
    Brianna Wiest, 101 Essays That Will Change The Way You Think

  • #5
    فاروق جويدة
    “لو ألفُ عامٍ فرّقتنا
    سوف يجمعنا حنينٌ .. أو قصيدهْ”
    فاروق جويدة, لو أننا لم نفترق

  • #6
    فاروق جويدة
    “لماذا نُفكر دائمًا في نهايات الأشياء رغم أننا نعيش بدايتها !!؟
    هل لأننا شُعوب تعشق أحزانها ؟ أم لأننا من كثرة ما اعتدنا من الخوف أصبحنا نخاف على كل شيء ، ومن أي شيء !
    حتى أوقات سعادتنا نخشى عليها من النهاية !”
    فاروق جويدة, ليس للحب أوان

  • #7
    فاروق جويدة
    “سيظلُ شيء في ضَمير الكون يُشعرني
    بأن الصُبح آتٍ إنَّ مَوعده غداً”
    فاروق جويدة, لو أننا لم نفترق

  • #8
    فاروق جويدة
    “والطفل يهمس في اسى:
    أشتاق يا بغداد تمرك في فمي..
    من قال إن النفط اغلى من دمي؟”
    فاروق جويدة

  • #9
    فاروق جويدة
    “إذا كنتُ أهرب منكِ .. إليكِ فقولي بربكِ .. أين المفر؟”
    فاروق جويدة, شيء سيبقى بيننا

  • #10
    Warsan Shire
    “My alone feels so good, I'll only have you if you're sweeter than my solitude.”
    Warsan Shire

  • #11
    Warsan Shire
    “You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.”
    Warsan Shire

  • #12
    Albert Camus
    “When I was young, I expected from people more than they could give: neverending friendship and constant excitement.

    Now I expect less than they can actually can give: to stay close silently. And their feelings, friendship, noble deeds always seem like a miracle to me: a true grace.”
    Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942

  • #13
    Albert Camus
    “You do not have to unburden your soul for everyone; it will be enough if you do that for those you love.”
    Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942

  • #14
    Albert Camus
    “When the time to die comes, it does not matter how and when it happens.”
    Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942

  • #15
    Albert Camus
    “Real generosity towards the future lies in giving all to the present.”
    Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942

  • #16
    غسان كنفاني
    “لا تكتبي لي جوابا ...لا تكترثي ، لا تقولي شيئا . إنني أعود إليك مثلما يعود اليتيم إلى ملجأه الوحيد ، و سأظل أعود : أعطيكِ رأسي المبتل لتجففيه بعد أن اختار الشقي أن يسير تحت المزاريب .”
    غسان كنفاني, رسائل غسان كنفاني إلى غادة السمان

  • #17
    Sylvia Plath
    “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar



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