Aliaa Osama

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حياة على باب الثلاجة
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by Alice Kuipers (Goodreads Author)
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“Was I able to live inside someone’s heart? Was I able to live inside your heart? Do you think you’ll remember me at least a little? You’d better not hit "reset!" Don’t forget me, okay? That’s a promise, okay? I'm glad it’s you, after all. Will I reach you? I hope I can reach you.”
Kaori Miyazono

“Whether you’re sad, you’re a mess, or you’ve hit rock bottom, you still have TO PLAY! That’s how people like us survive”
Kaori Miyazono

Franz Kafka
“Once again I have told you so little, and have asked no questions, and once again I must close. But not a single answer and, even more certainly, not a single question shall be lost. There exists some kind of sorcery by which two people, without seeing each other, without talking to each other, can at least discover the greater part about each other’s past, literally in a flash, without having to tell each other all and everything; but this, after all, is almost an instrument of Black Magic (without seeming to be) which, although never without reward, one would certainly never resort to with impunity. Therefore I won’t say it, unless you guess it first. It is terribly short, like all magic formulas. Farewell, and let me reinforce this greeting by lingering over your hand.

Yours, Franz K.”
Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

“Everything you say and do...it all sparkles so brightly. It's too blinding for me, and I end up closing my eyes. But I can't help aspiring to be like you.”
Arima Kousei

Franz Kafka
“I read the letter once, put it aside, and read it again; I pick up a file but am really only reading your letter; I am with the typist, to whom I am supposed to dictate, and again your letter slowly slides through my fingers and I have begun to draw it out of my pocket when people ask me something and I know perfectly well I should not be thinking of your letter now, yet that thought is all that occurs to me—but after all that I am as hungry as before, as restless as before, and once again the door starts swinging merrily, as though the man with the letter were about to appear again. That is what you call the “little pleasure” your letters give me.”
Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

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