The Island of Missing Trees

by Elif Shafak

A map is a two-dimensional representation with arbitrary symbols and incised lines that decide who is to be our enemy and who is to be our friend, who deserves our love and who deserves our hatred and who, our sheer indifference.

The human species’ appetite for novelty is insatiable and I’m not sure it does them much good.

Because that is what migrations and relocations do to us: when you leave your home for unknown shores, you don’t simply carry on as before; a part of you dies inside so that another part can start all over again.

emphasizing the last word, which she knew had a calming effect on grown-ups. Once you uttered it, they always left you alone.

Wisdom consists of ten parts: nine parts of silence, one part of words.’

‘Everybody is always raving on about love – all the songs, movies. I get it, it’s cute, but you don’t build a life on cute.

This is what life is. Boredom, frustration, trying to get out of things, longing for something better.

I’ve been thinking that you are my country. Is that a strange thing to say? Without you, I don’t have a home in this world;

I have learned: wherever there is war and a painful partition, there will be no winners, human or otherwise.

You don’t share a language, you think, and then you realize, grief is a language.