Mariam
https://www.goodreads.com/mariamelfouly
“The thing with your heart's desire is that your heart doesn't even know what it desires until it turns up. Like a tie at a tag sale, some perfect thing in a crate of nothing, you were just there, uninvited, and now suddenly the party was over and you were all I wanted. I hadn't even been looking, not for you, and now you were my heart's desire.”
― Why We Broke Up
― Why We Broke Up
“عَرَفْتُ الهَوى مُذ عَرَفْتُ هواك
وأغْلَقْتُ قَلْبي عَلىٰ مَنْ عَاداكْ
وقُمْتُ اُناجِيـكَ يا مَن تـَرىٰ
خَفايا القُلُوبِ ولَسْنا نراك
أحِبُكَ حُبَيْنِ حُبَ الهَـوىٰ
وحُبْــاً لأنَكَ أهْـل ٌ لـِذَاك
فأما الذي هُوَ حُبُ الهَوىٰ
فَشُغْلِي بذِكْرِكَ عَمَنْ سـِواكْ
وامّـا الذي أنْتَ أهلٌ لَهُ
فَلَسْتُ أرىٰ الكَوْنِ حَتىٰ أراكْ
فلا الحَمْدُ في ذا ولا ذاكَ لي
ولكنْ لكَ الحَمْدُ فِي ذا وذاك”
―
وأغْلَقْتُ قَلْبي عَلىٰ مَنْ عَاداكْ
وقُمْتُ اُناجِيـكَ يا مَن تـَرىٰ
خَفايا القُلُوبِ ولَسْنا نراك
أحِبُكَ حُبَيْنِ حُبَ الهَـوىٰ
وحُبْــاً لأنَكَ أهْـل ٌ لـِذَاك
فأما الذي هُوَ حُبُ الهَوىٰ
فَشُغْلِي بذِكْرِكَ عَمَنْ سـِواكْ
وامّـا الذي أنْتَ أهلٌ لَهُ
فَلَسْتُ أرىٰ الكَوْنِ حَتىٰ أراكْ
فلا الحَمْدُ في ذا ولا ذاكَ لي
ولكنْ لكَ الحَمْدُ فِي ذا وذاك”
―
“This object that we hold in our hands, a book…that tactile pleasure, it's just not going to go away.”
―
―
“I've Got A Little Problem
And I'm not really sure how to fix it.
Not really sure I need to. Not really sure I could.
Life is pretty good. But once in a while, uninvited and uninitiated anger invades me.
It starts, a tiny gnaw at the back of my brain. Like a migraine except without pain. They say headaches blossom, but this isn't so much a blooming as a bleeding. Irritation bleeds into rage, seethes into fury. An ulcer, emptying hatred inside me. And I don't know why. Life is pretty good.
So, what the hell?”
― Fallout
And I'm not really sure how to fix it.
Not really sure I need to. Not really sure I could.
Life is pretty good. But once in a while, uninvited and uninitiated anger invades me.
It starts, a tiny gnaw at the back of my brain. Like a migraine except without pain. They say headaches blossom, but this isn't so much a blooming as a bleeding. Irritation bleeds into rage, seethes into fury. An ulcer, emptying hatred inside me. And I don't know why. Life is pretty good.
So, what the hell?”
― Fallout
“Alas, poor country, almost afraid to know itself! It cannot be called our mother, but our grave.”
― Macbeth
― Macbeth
Mariam’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Mariam’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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