سارة شفيق
https://www.goodreads.com/sara_shafik
progress:
(page 37 of 166)
"كل سطر في الكتاب فيه نسبة جنون، باعتباره أصلا كتبه و هو في المستشفى على حد علمي.
بس في وسط جنونه بنتلاقى في نقط غريبة جدا بتخليني مش عارفة اسيب الكتاب و لا اكمله." — Feb 19, 2017 01:21PM
"كل سطر في الكتاب فيه نسبة جنون، باعتباره أصلا كتبه و هو في المستشفى على حد علمي.
بس في وسط جنونه بنتلاقى في نقط غريبة جدا بتخليني مش عارفة اسيب الكتاب و لا اكمله." — Feb 19, 2017 01:21PM
“وكأن كلَّ شئٍ في الدنيا بعمر ، والقبحَ خالدٌ . كل الأشياء الجميلة تموت . اللحظاتُ السعيدة تموتُ ولايبقى سوى ألم فقدِها ، أما التعِسَة فتبقى ويبقى ألم احتمالِ تكراراها”
― النحت في صخور الألماس
― النحت في صخور الألماس
“So that you will hear me
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.
Necklace, drunken bell
for your hands smooth as grapes.
And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.
Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy,
and they are more used to my sadness than you are.
Now I want them to say what I want to say to you
to make you hear as I want you to hear me.
The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual.
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.
You listen to other voices in my painful voice.
Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications.
Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me.
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish.
But my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.
I am making them into an endless necklace
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.”
― Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.
Necklace, drunken bell
for your hands smooth as grapes.
And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.
Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy,
and they are more used to my sadness than you are.
Now I want them to say what I want to say to you
to make you hear as I want you to hear me.
The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual.
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.
You listen to other voices in my painful voice.
Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications.
Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me.
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish.
But my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.
I am making them into an endless necklace
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.”
― Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
“I lied and said I was busy.
I was busy;
but not in a way most people understand.
I was busy taking deeper breaths.
I was busy silencing irrational thoughts.
I was busy calming a racing heart.
I was busy telling myself I am okay.
Sometimes, this is my busy -
and I will not apologize for it.”
―
I was busy;
but not in a way most people understand.
I was busy taking deeper breaths.
I was busy silencing irrational thoughts.
I was busy calming a racing heart.
I was busy telling myself I am okay.
Sometimes, this is my busy -
and I will not apologize for it.”
―
“When someone puts an end to something, it doesn't mean that he gave up, it means that thing is not taking him anywhere.”
―
―
“المهم أتعرفُ ما الذي تعنيه كلمة "رواية حقيقية"؟! أنها تسألُ السؤالَ الحقيقيَّ الدائم: لماذا نفعلُ ذلك بأنفسِنا؟! لماذا نعذبُ أنفسَنا بأيدينا؟! كتبتُ: وهل هذا حقيقي؟! هل حقا نعذبُ أنفسَنا بأيدينا؟! كتبتْ بسرعة كأنما حسمتْ الجواب أو كأنها تتخلص منه: نعم! تكون السعادة بين أيدينا، لكن نتركها كي نظهر بمظهر الشهداء، أو ضحايا الظروف، نستشعر لذةً في تعاطف الناس معنا، أو في خذلان الناس لنا، في تعاطفنا مع أنفسنا، أو تخاذلنا معها، أكثر من اللذة في السعادة ذاتها، نحن لا نبحث عن السعادة في الحقيقة، السعادة طريقها سهل، نحن نبحث عن الطرق التي تبعدنا عن السعادة دوما، ثم نظل نرمق السعادة التي ترنو إلينا من بعيد، نتباكى ونبكي، هكذا خُلقنا!.”
― النحت في صخور الألماس
― النحت في صخور الألماس
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