فاطمه مهرآوران

“Perhaps man has a hundred senses, and when he dies only the five senses that we know perish with him, and the other ninety-five remain alive.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Cherry Orchard

“در کوچه باد می اید
این ابتدای ویرانیست
آن روز هم که دست های تو ویران شدند باد می آمد ”
― فروغ فرخزاد / Forough Farrokhzad, گزینه اشعار فروغ فرخزاد

“Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath ‘scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune’s might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.”
― William Shakespeare

“Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
― Anton Chekhov