“Something in me was changing season too. I was no longer striving, fighting to change the unchangeable, not clenching in anxiety at the life we’d been unable to hold on to, or angry at an authoritarian system too bureaucratic to see the truth. A new season had crept into me, a softer season of acceptance. Burnt in by the sun, driven in by the storms. I could feel the sky, the earth, the water and revel in being part of the elements without a chasm of pain opening at the thought of the loss of our place within it all. I was a part of the whole. I didn’t need to own a patch of land to make that so. I could stand in the wind and I was the wind, the rain, the sea; it was all me, and I was nothing within it. The core of me wasn’t lost. Translucent, elusive, but there and growing stronger with every headland.”
― The Salt Path
― The Salt Path
“ويكثر قول الشعر في الحرب لا الهوى..
لأن الهوى لو قيس بالحرب جارح
/
وفي كل حرب ثم حق وباطل..
وفي الحب لا هذا ولا ذاك واضح
/
فإن قال لا أهوى فليس بصادق..
وإن قال أهوى أخجلته المذابح
/
وفي شعره معنى فصيح وغامض..
وفي صدره قلب مقيم ونازح
/
وشعب مقيم في خيام كأنها..
خيال من الشعر القديم يراوح
/
فقف عند رسم ما ترحل أهله..
ولكنه رسم لحزنك صالح
/
وما ضره هجر العشيرة إنما..
تقاعسها والموت غاد ورائح
/
إذا صار خذلان الأحبة دأبنا..
فمن عاش خسران ومن مات رابح
/
وإن كان هذا صلحنا وسلامنا..
فأخزى إلهي بعدها من يصالح”
―
لأن الهوى لو قيس بالحرب جارح
/
وفي كل حرب ثم حق وباطل..
وفي الحب لا هذا ولا ذاك واضح
/
فإن قال لا أهوى فليس بصادق..
وإن قال أهوى أخجلته المذابح
/
وفي شعره معنى فصيح وغامض..
وفي صدره قلب مقيم ونازح
/
وشعب مقيم في خيام كأنها..
خيال من الشعر القديم يراوح
/
فقف عند رسم ما ترحل أهله..
ولكنه رسم لحزنك صالح
/
وما ضره هجر العشيرة إنما..
تقاعسها والموت غاد ورائح
/
إذا صار خذلان الأحبة دأبنا..
فمن عاش خسران ومن مات رابح
/
وإن كان هذا صلحنا وسلامنا..
فأخزى إلهي بعدها من يصالح”
―
“As the sun began to rise, the man reached out to the woman, and they clasped hands. He cradled her, and languidly they lifted themselves up to their feet, their bodies brushing, their eyes lost in each other's. Sensuously, deliberately, they danced, moving as though they were one, their body language smooth as their limbs carefully unfolded. They twirled and rocked, intertwined and separated, nearly leaning onto one another but barely touching, their movements sometimes tender, sometimes almost violent...Moments passed while the dancers held tight to each other, as though their bodies were melting together. The expression on their features as they lifted their faces to the sky was one of unimaginable joy.”
―
―
“For readers worldwide, the attraction of romance novels seems to be that they provide hope, strength, and the assurance that happy endings are possible. Romance makes the promise that no matter how bleak things sometimes look, in the end everything will turn out right and true love will triumph -- and in an uncertain world, that's very comforting.”
― On Writing Romance: How to Craft a Novel That Sells
― On Writing Romance: How to Craft a Novel That Sells
“I fight with words, and I use them well.”
― Asking for a Friend
― Asking for a Friend
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