Ash88

“For the first time in years the tears were streaming down his face. But they were for himself now. He did not care about mouth and eyes and moving hands. He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back any more. The gates were closed, the sun was gone down, and there was no beauty but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of illusion, of youth, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.

"Long ago," he said, "long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Winter Dreams

“من مذابح ١٩١٥ الأرمنية: قرأت عن رجل كان يحمل أباه العجوز مسافة مئة خطوة ويضعه على التراب ثم يرجع ويحمل أمه العجوز، وهكذا دوالي، مئة خطوة بعد مئة خطوة. شعر بألم في صدره وكتفه. مات بالسكتة القلبية وأهله عاشوا من بعده.”
― ربيع جابر, أميركا

“لا أريد أن أصعد من الحفرة. الحفرة تعجبني. الحفرة جيّدة. الحفرة هادئة.”
― ربيع جابر, البيت الأخير

“He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. And that was all his patrimony.”
― Rafael Sabatini, Scaramouche