“وإنى يا صغيرى عرفت فتاة كانت تحاول أن تكتم دموع عينيها... فاجهش قلبها فى تنهيدة !”
―
―
“Isabel, as she herself grew older, became acquainted with revulsions, with disgusts; there were days when the world looked black and she asked herself with some sharpness what it was that she was pretending to live for.”
― The Portrait of a Lady
― The Portrait of a Lady
“Omens"
Her eyelids were painted blue.
When she closed her eyes the sea
rolled in like ten thousand fiery chariots,
leaving behind silence above & below
a thousand years old. He stood beneath
a high arched window, gazing out
at fishing boats beyond the dikes, their nets
unfurled, their offshore gestures
a dance of living in bluish entourage.
He was only the court’s chief jester.
What he said & did made them laugh,
but lately what he sometimes thought he knew
could cost him his polished tongue & royal wig.
He was the masked fool unmasking the emperor.
Forget the revelation. Forget the briny sea.
He had seen the ravishing empress naked
in a forbidden pose. Her blue eye shadow.
Aquamarine shells crusted with wormy mud.
Anyway, if he said half of what was foretold,
the great one would become a weeping boy
slumped beneath the Pillars of Hercules.
Poetry Apr 2012, Vol. 200 Issue 1, p15”
―
Her eyelids were painted blue.
When she closed her eyes the sea
rolled in like ten thousand fiery chariots,
leaving behind silence above & below
a thousand years old. He stood beneath
a high arched window, gazing out
at fishing boats beyond the dikes, their nets
unfurled, their offshore gestures
a dance of living in bluish entourage.
He was only the court’s chief jester.
What he said & did made them laugh,
but lately what he sometimes thought he knew
could cost him his polished tongue & royal wig.
He was the masked fool unmasking the emperor.
Forget the revelation. Forget the briny sea.
He had seen the ravishing empress naked
in a forbidden pose. Her blue eye shadow.
Aquamarine shells crusted with wormy mud.
Anyway, if he said half of what was foretold,
the great one would become a weeping boy
slumped beneath the Pillars of Hercules.
Poetry Apr 2012, Vol. 200 Issue 1, p15”
―
“I have seen much of human beings over a long period, and I have learnt how little good to expect from them.”
― The Black Prince
― The Black Prince
“Perhaps memory is not merely the preservation of a moment in the mind, but the process of repeatedly returning to it, carefully breaking it up in parts and assembling them again until we can make sense of what we remember.”
― The Other Americans
― The Other Americans
Black Coffee
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This group focuses on books written by or about black people from all continents in many different genres though we focus on historical fiction and cl ...more
Arabic Books
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بسم الله وبعد: نظرًا لأن الكتب العربية في الوقت الحالي تضاف يدويًا من بعض الأخوة والأخوات شاكرين لهم جهودهم،في القراءة والإضافة،آمل أن تكون هذه المجمو ...more
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