Suchita Senthil Kumar

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Why I Am An Athei...
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Howl and Other Poems
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Dictee
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نزار قباني
“keep silent . .
the most beautiful voice ,
is the talk of your hand
on the table.

قليل من الصمت . . ياجاهلة
فأجمل من كل هذا الحديث
حديث يديك
على الطاولة”
Nizar Qabbani, Arabian Love Poems: Full Arabic and English Texts

Paulo Coelho
“If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him.”
Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Louisa May Alcott
“Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason.”
Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Sylvia Plath
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Bhagat Singh
“Lovers, Lunatics and poets are made of same stuff.”
Bhagat singh

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