Tawfik Saabi

“To reap a return in ten years, plant trees. To reap a return in 100, cultivate the people.”
― Ho Chi Minh

“nothing in this world was more difficult than love.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“قل للحياة , كما يليق بشاعر متمرس
سيري ببطء كالإناث الواثقات بسحرهن و كيدهن
لكل واحدة نداء ما خفي
هيت لك...ما أجملك
سيري ببطء يا حياة لكي أراك بكامل النقصان حولي
كم نسيتك في خضمك باحثا عني و عنك
و كلما أدركت سرا منك قلت بقسوة...ما أجهلك
قل للغياب..نقصتني
وأنا حضرت.. لأكملك”
― محمود درويش, كزهر اللوز أو أبعد

“Suppose that a man leaps out of a burning building—as my dear friend and colleague Jeff Goldberg sat and said to my face over a table at La Tomate in Washington not two years ago—and lands on a bystander in the street below. Now, make the burning building be Europe, and the luckless man underneath be the Palestinian Arabs. Is this a historical injustice? Has the man below been made a victim, with infinite cause of complaint and indefinite justification for violent retaliation? My own reply would be a provisional 'no,' but only on these conditions. The man leaping from the burning building must still make such restitution as he can to the man who broke his fall, and must not pretend that he never even landed on him. And he must base his case on the singularity and uniqueness of the original leap. It can't, in other words, be 'leap, leap, leap' for four generations and more. The people underneath cannot be expected to tolerate leaping on this scale and of this duration, if you catch my drift. In Palestine, tread softly, for you tread on their dreams. And do not tell the Palestinians that they were never fallen upon and bruised in the first place. Do not shame yourself with the cheap lie that they were told by their leaders to run away. Also, stop saying that nobody knew how to cultivate oranges in Jaffa until the Jews showed them how. 'Making the desert bloom'—one of Yvonne's stock phrases—makes desert dwellers out of people who were the agricultural superiors of the Crusaders.”
― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch 22: A Memoir