Dima Babilie

“I am troubled, immeasurably
by your eyes.
I am struck by the feather
of your soft reply.
The sound of glass
speaks quick, disdain
and conceals
what your eyes fight
to explain.”
― Jim Morrison, Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. 1

“إسمع يا فيلسوفي الصغير
الإنسان يعيش ستين سنة في الغالب ، اليس كذلك ؟
يقضي نصفها في النوم .. بقى ثلاثون سنة
إطرح عشر سنوات ما بين مرض وسفر وأكل وفراغ ..
بقى عشرون
إن نصف هذه العشرين قد مضت مع طفولة حمقاء ... ومدارس إبتدائية .. لقد بقيت عشر سنوات
عشر سنوات فقط
أليست هذه جديرة بأن يعيشها الإنسان ب " طمانينة”
― غسان كنفاني, أرض البرتقال الحزين

“Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“If

"If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
Life would be delight,--
But things couldn't go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I'd be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,--
Yet they'd all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.”
― E.E. Cummings