Me-not

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Sophie’s World
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Ingmar Bergman
“I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one.”
Ingmar Bergman

غسان كنفاني
“ولكن قولي لي : ماذا يستحق أن نخسره في هذه الحياة العابرة؟ تدركين ما أعني... إننا في نهاية المطاف سنموت”
غسان كنفاني, رسائل غسان كنفاني إلى غادة السمان

Shel Silverstein
“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.”
Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

عبد الرحمن الأبنودي
“بنلف في دواير والدنيا تلف بينا
ودايماً ننتهي لمطرح ما إبتدينا
طيور الفجر تايهة في عتمة المدينة .. بتدور

مابنكتبش الرسايل مابننتظرش رد
...لا حد في يوم سمعنا ولا بنسمع حد
طيور العمر تايهة في عتمة المدينة .. بتدور

ساكنين في عالم يعشق الخطر
فيه الطيور تهرب من الشجر
وتهرب النجوم من القمر
وتهرب الوجوه من الصور

بنلف في دواير ندور ع الأمان
ونلاقينا رجعنا تاني لنفس المكان
ندور .. ندور .. ندور

نحلم ونحلم بالحياة المُفرحة
وأتاري أحلامنا بلا أجنحة
ندور ندور ندور بجناح حزين مكسور
ساعات نشوف في العتمة
وساعات نتوه في النور
ساعات عيوننا بالأسى تفرح
وساعات في ساعة الفرح ننوح

ولا حاضر ولا ماضي
تروس بتلف ع الفاضي
ولا فينا شباب زعلان
ولا فينا شباب راضي

مفيش غير إننا بندووور ..
ندووووور .. ندووووور”
عبد الرحمن الأبنودي

Veronica Roth
“You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.

"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.

His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."

"Why..." I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"

"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake.”
Veronica Roth, Divergent

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