إيمان بسيوني > إيمان's Quotes

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  • #1
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “هذبوا رجالكم قبل أن تهذبوا نسائكم فإن عجزتم عن الرجال فأنتم عن النساء أعجز”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, العبرات

  • #2
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “لقد هانَ على النّاس أمر الكذب، حتى إنّك لتجد الرجل الصادق، فتعرض على الناس أمره، وتطرفهم بحديثه كأنك تعرض عجائب المخلوقات وتتحدث بخوارق العادات”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, النظرات

  • #3
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “يجب ألا ينفتح قلب الفتاة لأحد من الناس قبل أن ينفتح لزوجها لتستطيع أن تعيش معه سعيدة هادئة لا ينغصها ذكر الماضي وانخلاط في مخيلتها الصور والألوان”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي

  • #4
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “إن رأيت شاعرًا من الشعراء، أو عالمًا من العلماء، أو نبيلاً في قومه، أو داعيًا في أمته، قد انقسم الناس في النظر إليه وفي تقدير منزلته، انقسامًا عظيمًا وانفرجت مسافة الخلف بينهم في شأنه، فافتتن بحبه قوم حتى رفعوه إلى رتبة الملك، ودان ببغضه آخرون حتى هبطوا به إلى منزلة الشيطان فأعلم أنه رجل عظيم”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, النظرات

  • #5
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “فليذهب الماضي بخيره وشره , وليأتنا الحاضر بما نريد".”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, ماجدولين

  • #6
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “إنّ قلب الرجل متقلبٌ مُتلّون، يسرع إلى البغض كما يسرع إلى الحب، وإنّ هذه المرأة التي تحتقرونها وتزدرونها وتضربون الأمثال بخفة عقلها وضعف قلبها، أوثق منه عقدًا وأمتن ودًا وأوفى عهدًا”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, النظرات

  • #7
    Bernard M. Baruch
    “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.”
    Bernard M. Baruch

  • #8
    Pablo Neruda
    “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
    Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

  • #9
    Pablo Neruda
    “If You Forget Me

    I want you to know
    one thing.

    You know how this is:
    if I look
    at the crystal moon, at the red branch
    of the slow autumn at my window,
    if I touch
    near the fire
    the impalpable ash
    or the wrinkled body of the log,
    everything carries me to you,
    as if everything that exists,
    aromas, light, metals,
    were little boats
    that sail
    toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

    Well, now,
    if little by little you stop loving me
    I shall stop loving you little by little.

    If suddenly
    you forget me
    do not look for me,
    for I shall already have forgotten you.

    If you think it long and mad,
    the wind of banners
    that passes through my life,
    and you decide
    to leave me at the shore
    of the heart where I have roots,
    remember
    that on that day,
    at that hour,
    I shall lift my arms
    and my roots will set off
    to seek another land.

    But
    if each day,
    each hour,
    you feel that you are destined for me
    with implacable sweetness,
    if each day a flower
    climbs up to your lips to seek me,
    ah my love, ah my own,
    in me all that fire is repeated,
    in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
    my love feeds on your love, beloved,
    and as long as you live it will be in your arms
    without leaving mine.”
    Pablo Neruda

  • #10
    Pablo Neruda
    “Take bread away from me, if you wish,
    take air away, but
    do not take from me your laughter.

    Do not take away the rose,
    the lance flower that you pluck,
    the water that suddenly
    bursts forth in joy,
    the sudden wave
    of silver born in you.

    My struggle is harsh and I come back
    with eyes tired
    at times from having seen
    the unchanging earth,
    but when your laughter enters
    it rises to the sky seeking me
    and it opens for me all
    the doors of life.

    My love, in the darkest
    hour your laughter
    opens, and if suddenly
    you see my blood staining
    the stones of the street,
    laugh, because your laughter
    will be for my hands
    like a fresh sword.

    Next to the sea in the autumn,
    your laughter must raise
    its foamy cascade,
    and in the spring, love,
    I want your laughter like
    the flower I was waiting for,
    the blue flower, the rose
    of my echoing country.

    Laugh at the night,
    at the day, at the moon,
    laugh at the twisted
    streets of the island,
    laugh at this clumsy
    fool who loves you,
    but when I open
    my eyes and close them,
    when my steps go,
    when my steps return,
    deny me bread, air,
    light, spring,
    but never your laughter. ”
    Pablo Neruda

  • #11
    Pablo Neruda
    “I made these sonnets out of wood; I gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and that is how they should reach your ears. Walking in forests or on beaches, along hidden lakes, in latitudes sprinkled with ashes, you and I have picked up pieces of pure bark, pieces of wood subject to the comings and goings of water and the weather. Out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife, I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.”
    Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

  • #12
    Pablo Neruda
    “We have to discard the past
    and, as one builds
    floor by floor, window by window,
    and the building rises,
    so do we keep shedding --
    first, broken tiles,
    then proud doors,
    until, from the past,
    dust falls
    as if it would crash
    against the floor,
    smoke rises
    as if it were on fire,
    and each new day
    gleams
    like an empty
    plate.
    There is nothing, there was always nothing.
    It all has to be filled
    with a new, expanding
    fruitfulness;
    then, down
    falls yesterday
    as in a well
    falls yesterday's water,
    into the cistern
    of all that is now without a voice, without fire.
    It is difficult
    to get bones used
    to disappearing,
    to teach eyes
    to close,
    but
    we do it
    unwittingly.
    Everything was alive,
    alive, alive,alive
    like a scarlet fish,
    but time
    passed with cloth and darkness
    and kept wiping away
    the flash of the fish.
    Water water water,
    the past goes on falling
    although it keeps a grip
    on thorns
    and on roots.
    It went, it went, and now
    memories mean nothing.
    Now the heavy eyelid
    shut out the light of the eye
    and what was once alive
    is now no longer living;
    what we were, we are not.
    And with words, although the letters
    still have transparency and sound,
    they change, and the mouth changes;
    the same mouth is now another mouth;
    they change, lips, skin, circulation;
    another soul took on our skeleton;
    what once was in us now is not.
    It left, but if they call, we reply
    "I am here," and we realize we are not,
    that what was once, was and is lost,
    lost in the past, and now does not come back."

    -"Past”
    Pablo Neruda, Fully Empowered

  • #13
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي
    “لو جاز لكل انسان أن يقتل كل من يخالفه فى رأيه ومذهبه
    لأقفرت البلاد من ساكنيها”
    مصطفى لطفي المنفلوطي, النظرات



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