Sednic > Sednic's Quotes

“لقد أصاب الجُذام روحى .. تصوُر هذا عسير لكنه ما حدث فعلا ..
روحى فقدت الإحساس ثم امتلأت بالقروح .. و تعفنت و انبعثت منها رائحة كريهة ..
لم أعد راغبا فى الحياة حتى لو شُفيت من هذا المرض ..”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, داء الأسد

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“عندما يتضخم كبرياؤك وتعتقد أن الآخرين لا يمكن أن يعلموك أي شيء فأنت تنهار بسرعة لا تصدق.”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, دماغي كده

“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“انها -بمقاييس المجتمع - سيئه ..
بل هى السوء ذاته ..
لكننى عرفت ..
دنوت فرأيت انها روح طاهره..
مزقها مدعو الفضيله ..
كلهم مفعمون بالخطايا ..
لكن كل واحد منهم رجمها بحجر”
― أحمد خالد توفيق

“فلسفة هندية قديمة
"الإستغراق في الآثام قد يؤدي إلي التطهر والقرف الأبدي منها”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, فقاقيع

“The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“يتمتع الناس بدرجة عالية من الجشع سوف تثير ذهولهم، لو أدركوا حجمها الحقيقي. لكنهم كذلك لا يكفون عن الكلام عن الزهد والرضا بما قسمه لهم الله. إن الكفن بلا جيوب والفقير والغني لجثتيهما ذات رائحة العفن”
― أحمد خالد توفيق

“الأرق نوع من الإمساك العصبى .. لا يمكن تفريغ أحشائك العصبية من ذكرياتها المؤذية مهما حاولت”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, الآن نفتح الصندوق 3

“Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“من المفترض أننا أنهينا الدهشة منذ زمن وصار كل شيء قابلا للتصديق.”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, زغازيغ

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“قيمتهم الوحيدة هي المنصب والقوة”
― أحمد خالد توفيق

“We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.”
― George R.R. Martin

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

“Sleep is good, he said, and books are better.”
― George R. R. Martin

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
― William Shakespeare, As You Like It

“What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“You speak an infinite deal of nothing.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

“Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“The earth has its music for those who will listen”
― Reginald Vincent Holmes, Fireside Fancies

“If I look back I am lost.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
― William Shakespeare, The Tempest

“A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you'll learn that soon enough...and the parts that look like magic turn out to be the messiest of all.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring barque,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”
― William Shakespeare, Great Sonnets

“Lord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold.”
― George R R Martin

“To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd!”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“To die, - To sleep, - To sleep!
Perchance to dream: - ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet