Salam Ch

“ببساطة يا مارغريت، لا خيار لديّ، أكتب أو أنتحر.
أنا مجرّد هارب من موته وفي الكتابة تأجيل انتحاري إلى موعد آخر، إلى حين يخونني قلم، إلى حين يقتلني حنين!”
― قاسم مرواني, وجه مارغريت القبيح

“I realized I had no friends. Besides, even if I had had, I shouldn't be any better off. If I had been able to commit suicide and then see their reaction, why, then the game would have been worth the candle. But the earth is dark, cher ami, the coffin thick, and the shroud opaque, The eyes of the soul - to be sure - if there is a soul and it has eyes! But you see, we're not sure, we can't be sure. Otherwise, there would be a solution; at least one could get oneself taken seriously. Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism. So if there were the least certainty that one could enjoy the show, it would be worth proving to them what they are unwilling to believe and thus amazing them. But you kill yourself and what does it matter whether or not they believe you? You are not there to see their amazement and their contrition (fleeting at best), to witness, according to every man's dream, your own funeral. In order to cease being a doubtful case, one has to cease being, that is all. Besides, isn't it better thus? We would suffer too much from their indifference.”
― Albert Camus, The Fall

“أن نحب أحداً شفقة به فهذا يعني أننا لا نحبه حقاً”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“لم تكن تؤمن بالحبّ المتبادل، بذاك الذي يتحدّثون عنه ويُطالبون به. أحبّت أن تحبّ، أن تعشق، أن تحلم، أن تتأمّل، أن تتألّم. أحبّت أن تتخيّل، أن تحلّق، أن تحتفظ بسرّ لنفسها، لكنّها لم تكن تريد لهذا الحبّ أن يتجسّد ويتأطّر ويوضع في علبة خشبيّة باردة.”
― Katia Tawil, السماء تهرب كل يوم