Lina. > Recent Status Updates

نظرتنا هي التي غالباً ما تسجن الآخرين داخل انتماءاتهم الضيقة، ونظرتنا كذلك هي التي تحررهم

Everybody has a heart that can be touched by something. Crying isn't necessarily about sadness or meltdowns or being upset. I'd like you to bear that in mind, if you would.

Kundera questions the vitality of the individual in the novel and the ponders a protagonist's continuity through offsprings ... “I sense that this novel [one hundred years of solitude], which is an apotheosis of the art of the novel, is at the same time a farewell to the age of novel.

هل أنا هو؟ هل أؤدي جيداً دوري من الفصل الأخير؟ وهل قرأت المسرحية قبل هذا العرض أم فرض عليّ؟ وهل أنا هو من يؤدي الدور أم أن الضحية غيرت أقوالها لتعيش ما يعد الحداثة، بعدما انجرف المؤلف عن سياق النص وانصرف الممثل والشهود؟

سوف ننام طويلاً، الموت والنوم متشابهان. لا فرق بينهما إلا ان الأول طويل والآخر قصير، ألا تنهض لنعيش فترة أطول؟

He who truly thinks for himself is like a monarch, in that he recognizes no one over him. His judgements, like the decisions of a monarch, arise directly from his own absolute power. He no more accepts authorities than a monarch does orders, and he acknowledges the validity of nothing he has not himself confirmed.

Insightful

I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. It is an absurd attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices.

Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. [...] literature stimulates life. A novel is a story of what never was, and a play is a novel without narration. A poem is the expression of ideas or feelings in a language no one uses, because no one talks in verse.

I'm handed faith like a sealed package on a strange-looking platter and an expected to accept it without opening it.

All that we know is our own impression, and all that we are is an exterior impression, a melodrama in which we, the self-aware actors, are also our own spectators, our own gods by permission of some department or other at City Hall.

الموت شيء مرعب ليس في حد ذاته، ولكن بما يتركه للأحياء من بقايا حياة الراحلين

Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.

Genius lasts longer than beauty.

“Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all.”

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid.

ولكن ما الذي يمكن ان تساويه الحياة اذا كان التمرين الاول هو الحياة نفسها؟ هذا ما يجعل الحياة شبيهة دائماً بالخطوط الاولى لعمل فني، ولكن حتى كلمة "خطوط أولى" لا تفي بالغرض. فهي تبقى دائماً مسودة لشيء ما، رسماً اولياً للوحة ما. اما الخطوط الاولى التي هي حياتنا فهي خطوط للاشيء ورسم دون لوحة.

You know I hate, detest, and cant bear a lie, not because I'm straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appals me. There's a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies– which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world– what I want to forget. It makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do.

That little body is, I do believe, the greatest weight I have on my conscience. For I realize today that it is a mortal sin to violate the great laws of nature. We should not hurry, we should not be impatient, but we should confidently obey the eternal rhythm.

منسِية.

كنا، نحن الاثنان، بحاجة إلى أن نغتسل بالبكاء، ولايهم السبب الذي نبكي من أجله، فقد كانت قلوبنا تمتليء بالأحزان لدرجة أن أي شيء يكفي ليكون سبباً.

Say your name over two hundred times and discover you are no one

‏-إن مسعاي هو البحث عن الله.
-إذاً فإنك تبحث عنه في المكان الخطأ. لقد هجر الله هذا المكان! ولا نعرف متى سيعود.