Sean Pridgeon

“يا عطشي، يا اشتياقاً لا ينتهي، يا طريقيَ الحائر!
دروبُ مياهٍ مظلمة، حيث العطش الأبدي يستمر،
والعناء يستمر، والألم لا نهاية له.”
― بابلو نيرودا, عشرون قصيدة حب وأغنية يائسة

“That was his moment in Leningrad, on an empty street, when his life became possible—when Alexander became possible. There he stood as he was—a young Red Army officer in dissolution, all his days stamped with no future and all his appetites unrestrained, on patrol the day war started for Russia. He stood with his rifle slung on his shoulder and cast his wanton eyes on her, eating her ice cream all sunny, singing, blonde, blossoming, breathtaking. He gazed at her with his entire unknowable life in front of him, and this is what he was thinking…
To cross the street or not to cross?
To follow her? To hop on the bus, after her? What absolute madness.”
― Paullina Simons, The Summer Garden

“...nothing that crawls the earth is for my sport.”
― James Fenimore Cooper, The Prairie

“لا جدوى من عناء التفكير في عذاب إعادة الساعات إلي الوراء، وقلب التقاويم للخلف علي أمل الوصول من جديد للحظة مضت و لن تعود أبدا”
― Italo Calvino, If on a Winter's Night a Traveler