Amani
https://www.goodreads.com/amaniii
It is a strange thing to nourish what could kill you in the hopes it does not kill you.
“هل الحياة موت ؟ أم أن الموت حياة ؟ من سبق الآخر ، وأيهما الباب ، وأيهما السرداب ؟ وأيهما يفضي إلى الآخر ، حين جئنا إلى الحياة جئنا من الموت أم من الحياة ؟ وحين تركناها خلفنا عدنا إلى الموت أن إلى الحياة التي جئنا منها ؟”
― ذائقة الموت
― ذائقة الموت
“To love someone is like moving into a house," Sonja used to say. "At first you fall in love in everything new, you wonder every morning that this is one's own, as if they are afraid that someone will suddenly come tumbling through the door and say that there has been a serious mistake and that it simply was not meant to would live so fine. But as the years go by, the facade worn, the wood cracks here and there, and you start to love this house not so much for all the ways it is perfect in that for all the ways it is not. You become familiar with all its nooks and crannies. How to avoid that the key gets stuck in the lock if it is cold outside. Which floorboards have some give when you step on them, and exactly how to open the doors for them not to creak. That's it, all the little secrets that make it your home.”
― A Man Called Ove
― A Man Called Ove
“She just smiled, said that she loved books more than anything, and started telling him excitedly what each of the ones in her lap was about. And Ove realised that he wanted to hear her talking about the things she loved for the rest of his life.”
― A Man Called Ove
― A Man Called Ove
“I am larger, better than I thought; I did not know I held so much goodness.
All seems beautiful to me.
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.”
― Leaves of Grass
All seems beautiful to me.
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.”
― Leaves of Grass
“Last night I wept in a way I haven’t wept for some time. I wept until I aged myself. I watched it happen in the mirror. I watched the lines arrive around my eyes like engraved sunbursts; it was like watching flowers open in time-lapse on a windowsill. The tears not only aged my face, they also changed its texture, turned the skin of my cheeks into putty. I recognized this as a rite of decadence, but I did not know how to stop it.”
― Bluets
― Bluets
Amani’s 2025 Year in Books
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