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It seemed to Leila that human beings exhibited a profound impatience with the milestones of their existence.
If a border existed between the Realm of Life and the Realm of Afterlife, Leila decided, it must be as permeable as sandstone.
At some level invisible to the human eye, opposites blended in the most unexpected ways.
Just because you think it’s safe here, it doesn’t mean this is the right place for you, her heart countered. Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong.
something inherently wrong? Little did she yet understand that the end of childhood comes not when a child’s body changes with puberty, but when her mind is
finally able to see her life through the eyes of an outsider.
within every sane mind there was a trace of insanity, and within the depths of madness glimmered a seed of lucidity.
Leila had come to understand that feelings of tenderness must always be hidden – that such things could only be revealed behind closed doors and never spoken about afterwards. This was the only form of affection she had learned from grown-ups, and the teaching would come with dire consequences.
thin and pale like a map drawn in the sand.
She regarded her memory as a graveyard; segments of her life were buried there, lying in separate
graves, and she had no intention of reviving them.
But the boy thought one should be even gentler with the living than with the dead, because, after all, they were the ones struggling to make sense of this world, weren’t they?
Everyone seemed a little lost, vulnerable and unsure of themselves, whether they were educated or not, modern or not, Eastern or not, grown up or a child. That’s what he reckoned, this boy. He, for one, always felt more comfortable next to people who were not perfect in any way.
Shame and self-reproach had been Leila’s constant companions for too long, twin shadows that followed her everywhere she went.
‘Well, think about it: a friend is someone you can walk with in the dark and learn lots of things from. But you also know you are different people – you and your friend. You are not your depression. You are much more than what your mood is today or tomorrow.’
She lived with an endless commotion inside.
‘Not at all. We must do what we can to mend our lives, we owe that to ourselves – but we need to be careful not to break others while achieving that.’
He had never set great store by words, expecting the people he loved to read him through his silences. When he had to talk openly, he often hinted at things; when he had to disclose his emotions, he concealed them even more.
she were summoned by God one day, and had a chance to sit in His presence, she would love to ask Him just one simple question: ‘Why did you allow Yourself to be so widely
misunderstood, my beautiful and merciful God?’
Nalan thought that one of the endless tragedies of human history was that pessimists were better at surviving than optimists, which meant that, logically speaking, humanity carried the genes of people who did not believe in humanity.
