Hana > Hana's Quotes

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  • #1
    Milan Kundera
    “[W]e must never allow the future to collapse under the burden of memory.”
    Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

  • #2
    Milan Kundera
    “...because love is continual interrogation. I don't know of a better definition of love.”
    Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

  • #3
    Milan Kundera
    “Totalitarianism is not only hell, but all the dream of paradise-- the age-old dream of a world where everybody would live in harmony, united by a single common will and faith, without secrets from one another. Andre Breton, too, dreamed of this paradise when he talked about the glass house in which he longed to live. If totalitarianism did not exploit these archetypes, which are deep inside us all and rooted deep in all religions, it could never attract so many people, especially during the early phases of its existence. Once the dream of paradise starts to turn into reality, however, here and there people begin to crop up who stand in its way, and so the rulers of paradise must build a little gulag on the side of Eden. In the course of time this gulag grows ever bigger and more perfect, while the adjoining paradise gets even smaller and poorer.”
    Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

  • #4
    Rebecca Solnit
    “The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue.

    For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. For the blue is not in the place those miles away at the horizon, but in the atmospheric distance between you and the mountains.”
    Rebecca Solnit

  • #5
    Elif Batuman
    “I was overcome by the sense of how much more there was in his life than in mine, by the things to do and distances to travel, while I never had done anything or gone anywhere, and never would.

    All I had ever done was visit my parents all the time - first one parent and then the other, with no sign of it ever stopping. Worse yet, I had no one to blame but myself. If my mother told me not to do something, I didn't do it. Everyone's mother told them not to do things, but I was the only one who listened.

    The eternal pauper in the great marketplace of ideas and of the world, I had nothing to teach anyone. I didn't have anything anyone wanted.”
    Elif Batuman, The Idiot

  • #6
    Ernest Hemingway
    “His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.”
    Ernest Hemingway

  • #7
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Mary

  • #8
    William Faulkner
    “Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar...”
    William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

  • #9
    Milan Kundera
    “How could she feel nostalgia when he was right in front of her? How can you suffer from the absence of a person who is present?

    You can suffer nostalgia in the presence of the beloved if you glimpse a future where the beloved is no more”
    Milan Kundera, Identity

  • #10
    Joe L. Wheeler
    “There is something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.”
    Joe L. Wheeler

  • #11
    Naguib Mahfouz
    “لشد ما حزن حتى رسبت عكارة الحزن في أحلامه.”
    نجيب محفوظ, Palace Walk

  • #12
    Dunya Mikhail
    “If the world were flat
    like a magic carpet,
    our sorrow would have a beginning and an end.

    If the world were square,
    we would lie low in a corner
    when the war plays "hide and seek."

    If the world were round,
    our dreams would take turns on the ferris wheel,
    and we would be equal.”
    Dunya Mikhail, The Iraqi Nights

  • #13
    حسين البرغوثي
    “جفاف القلب, هذا هو كل شيء..عقلي كان ينمو وقلبي يجف”
    حسين البرغوثي, الضوء الأزرق

  • #14
    حسين البرغوثي
    “فوضى في قلبي وفي خارجه. لكن لا توجد فوضى، بل نظام آخر للأشياء.”
    حسين البرغوثي, سأكون بين اللوز

  • #15
    تميم البرغوثي
    “كم أظهرَ العشقُ من سرٍ وكم كتَما ــــــ وكم أماتَ وأحيا قبلنا أُمَما

    قالت غلبتُكَ يا هذا ، فقلتُ لها ــــــ لم تغلبيني ولكنْ زِدتِني كرما

    بعضُ المعاركِ في خُسرانِها شرفٌ ـــــــ من عادَ مُنتَصراً من مثلها انهزما !

    ما كنت أتركُ ثأري قطُّ قبلَهمْ ـــــــ لكنّهم دخلُوا من حُسنِهِم حَرَما

    يقسو الحبيبانِ قدْرَ الحبِّ بينهما ــــــ حتى لَتَحْسَبُ بينَ العاشِقَيْنِ دما

    ويرجعانِ إلى خمرٍ مُعَتقةٍ ــــــ من المحبةِ تَنفي الشكَّ والتُهَما

    جديلةٌ طرفاها العاشقانِ فما ــــــ تراهُما افترقا .. إلا ليلتَحِما

    في ضمةٍ تُرجعُ الدنيا لسنَّتِها ـــــــ كالبحرِ من بعدِ موسى عادَ والْتأَما

    قد أصبحا الأصل مما يشبهان فَقُل ـــــــ هما كذلكَ حقاً ، لا كأنَّهُما

    فكلُّ شيءٍ جميلٍ بتَّ تُبصِرُهُ ـــــــ أو كنتَ تسمعُ عنهُ قبلها، فَهُما

    هذا الجمالُ الذي مهما قسا، رَحِما ـــــــ هذا الجمال الذي يستأنسُ الألما

    دمي فداءٌ لطَيفٍ جادَ في حُلُمٍ ـــــــ بقُبْلَتَيْنِ فلا أعطى ولا حرَما

    إنَّ الهوى لجديرٌ بالفداءِ وإن ـــــــ كان الحبيبُ خيالاً مرَّ أو حُلُما

    أو صورةٌ صاغَها أجدادُنا القُدَما ــــــ بلا سَقامٍ فصاروا بالهوى سُقَماً

    الخَصْرُ وهمٌ تكادُ العينُ تخطئُهُ ــــــــ وجوده بابُ شكٍ بعدما حُسِما

    والشَّعرُ أطولُ مِن ليلي إذا هجرت ــــــــ والوجْهُ أجملُ من حظي إذا ابتسما

    في حُسنها شبقٌ غضبانُ قَيَّدَهُ ـــــــ حياؤُها فإذا ما أفلتَ انتقما

    أكرِمْ بهم ُعُصبةً هاموا بما وَهِمُوا ــــــ وأكرمُ الناسِ من يحيا بما وَهِما

    والحبٌ طفلٌ متى تحكمْ عليهِ يَقُلْ ـــــــ ظلمتَنِي ومتى حكَّمْتَه ظلما

    إن لم تُطِعْهُ بكى وإن أطعتَ بغى ـــــــ فلا يُريحُكَ محكوماً ولا حَكما

    مُذ قلتُ دعْ ليَ روحي ظلَّ يطلُبُها ـــــــ فقلتُ هاكَ اسْتَلِمْ روحي، فما اسْتلما

    وإنَّ بي وجَعاً شبهتُهُ بصدىً ـــــــ إنْ رنَّ رانَ ، وعشبٍ حينَ نمَّ نما

    كأنني علَمٌ لا ريحَ تَنْشُرُهُ ـــــــ أو ريحُ أخبارِِ نصرٍ لم تَجِدْ عَلما

    يا منْ حَسَدْتُم صبِياً بالهوى فَرِحاً ـــــــ رِفقاً به ، فَهُوَ مقتولٌ وما علما”
    تميم البرغوثي

  • #16
    Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache
    “How I wish I was like the water,
    Flowing so freely with every drop
    Let my every emotion wonder,
    No need to start, nor even stop
    How I wish I was like the fire,
    Burning with every flame up
    Leaving a trace of hot desire
    As a Phoenix raises its' wings up
    How I wish I was like the earth,
    Raising each flower from the ground
    Seeing the beauty of death and birth
    And then returning to the ground
    How I wish I was like the wind,
    Hearing each whisper, sound and thought
    A lonesome and wandering little wind,
    Shattering all that has been sought
    Oh, how I wish I was where you are,
    Not separated by empty space, so far
    It seems like we're galaxies apart,
    But we find hope within our heart
    And how I wish I was all of the above,
    So I can come below and yet forget,
    The beauty of angels which come down like a dove
    And demons who love with no regret.”
    Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache



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