نوفل عبدالله

“So he was deserted. The whole world was clamouring: Kill yourself, kill yourself, for our sakes. But why should he kill himself for their sakes? Food was pleasant, the sun was hot; and this killing oneself, how does one set about it, with a table knife, uglily, with floods of blood,--by sucking a gaspipe? He was too weak; he could scarcely raise his hand. Besides, now that he was quite alone, condemned, deserted, as those we are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know. Holmes had won of course, the brute with the red nostrils had won. But even Holmes himself could not touch this last relic straying on the edge of the world, this outcast, who gazed back at the inhabited regions, who lay, like a drowned sailor, on the shore of the world.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“A critique is not a matter of saying that things are not right as they are. It is a matter of pointing out on what kinds of assumptions, what kinds of familiar, unchallenged, unconsidered modes of thought the practices that we accept rest.”
― Michel Foucault

“أتحدثني عن يوم الحساب الأخير ؟ اسمح لي بأن أضحك باحترام ، و سأنتظر ذلك اليوم بصبر ، لأنني عرفت ماهو أسوأ منه .. حساب البشر ، سأخبرك بسر كبير يا صديقي العزيز .. لا تنتظر يوم الحساب الأخير ، إنه يحدث في كل يوم ”
― ألبير كامو

“The city seems to be a labyrinth that can be ordered. The world is an infinite series of curvatures or inflections, and the entire world is enclosed in the soul from one point of view.”
― Gilles Deleuze, The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque