Reem > Reem's Quotes

“Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?' observed Amy, tasting her mixture critically. `She means vampire, not seaweed, but it doesn't matter. It's too warm to be particular about one's parts of speech, ' murmured Jo.”
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

“In the best conversations, you don't even remember what you talked about, only how it felt. It felt like we were in some place your body can't visit, some place with no ceiling and no walls and no floor and no instruments”
― John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

“There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

“You know, one of the hardest things to admit is that we weren’t loved when we needed it most. It’s a terrible feeling, the pain of not being loved.”
― Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient

“Choosing a lover is a lot like choosing a therapist. We need to ask ourselves, is this someone who will be honest with me, listen to criticism, admit making mistakes, and not promise the impossible?”
― Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient

“You become increasingly comfortable with madness - and not just the madness of others, but your own. We’re all crazy, I believe, just in different ways.”
― Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient

“...we often mistake love for fireworks - for drama and dysfunction. But real love is very quiet, very still. It's boring, if seen from the perspective of high drama. Love is deep and calm - and constant.”
― Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient

“It was never worth worrying about someone you didn’t love. And it wasn’t love if you didn’t worry.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“I had found my religion: nothing seemed more important to me than a book. I saw the library as a temple.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words: The Autobiography of Jean-Paul Sartre

“I wanted to be missed, like water, like bread, like air, by all other people in all other places.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words: The Autobiography of Jean-Paul Sartre

“Madame Picard believed that a child should be allowed to read anything: 'A book never does any harm if it is well written.' While she was there, I had once asked permission to read Madame Bovary and my mother, in an oversweet voice, had said: 'But if my darling reads books like that at his age, what will he do when he grows up?' 'I shall live them!' This reply had met with the most complete and lasting success.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words: The Autobiography of Jean-Paul Sartre

“I was the beginning, the middle and the end all rolled into one small boy, already old, already dead, here, in the shadows, between the stacks of plates higher than himself, and outside, very far away, in the cast and gloomy sunshine of glory. I was the particle at the beginning of its trajectory and the series of waves which flows back on it after it has struck the terminal buffer. Reassembled and compressed, one hand on my tomb and the other on my cradle, I felt brief and splendid, a flash of lightening swallowed up in darkness.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words: The Autobiography of Jean-Paul Sartre

“All happiness depends on courage and work.”
― Honoré de Balzac

“أن تختار ألمًا من أصل ألمين . .
أن تختار أهون الخسارتين . .
أن تبتر بعضك لتُنقذ بعضك الآخر . .
هل تعرف هذا النوع من الخيارات ؟”
― ندى ناصر, على متن حقيبة

“على المرءِ أن يعترف يا أميمتي، بأنّه قد يحدث له أن يعيش في الحياة، وهو لا يعلمُ بأن هناك على مقربةٍ منه، كتابًا يتضمن مجموع تفاصيلِ حياته، وقد سُلط عليها الضوء، كتابًا يتضمن جميع ما لم ينتبه إليه من قبل هو بالذات، أبدًا؛ وما أن يشرع في قراءة ذلك الكتاب، حتى يأخذ في تذكر ذلك الماضي، ويستعيده، ويستوعبه شيئًا فشيئًا.”
― Fyodor Mihayloviç Dostoyevski, Poor Folk

“Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

“He spoke of...the people who had once made up the circle of the old countess' contemporaries, who had once been an actual, living, definite circle, but who now, mostly scattered over the world, were living out their time, as she was, gleaning the remaining ears of what they had sown in their lives.”
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace