Malak Jawad

“People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.”
― Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

“-نعود ؟
-لا أريد أن أمشي . وإذا استطعت أن لا أتوقف سأكون سعيدة .
إذا تعبت أنت أدخل وإذا كنت تحبني ابق معي قليلا .
-أحبك ومتعب وباق معك . مليح ؟
-مليح جدا .”
― واسيني الأعرج, طوق الياسمين

“ما الخطأ في أن يتعلق الغريق بلوح خشب أو عود أو قشة؟ ما الجرم في أن يصنع لنفسه قنديلاً مزججاً و ملوناً لكي يتحمل عتمة ألوانه؟”
― رضوى عاشور, ثلاثية غرناطة

“نحن نخطئ دوماً حينما نظن أنّ الذين نحبهم معصومون من الموت”
― واسيني الأعرج, سوناتا لأشباح القدس