أمِيرة

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鬼滅の刃 9 [Kimetsu n...
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1Q84, الكتاب الأول
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Dec 09, 2021 12:38AM

 
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Dec 09, 2021 12:37AM

 
See all 11 books that أمِيرة is reading…
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Haruki Murakami
“Once you pass a certain age, life becomes nothing more than a process of continual loss. Things that are important to your life begin to slip out of your grasp, one after another, like a come losing teeth. And the only things that come to take their place are worthless imitations. Your physical strength, your hopes, your dreams, your ideals, your convictions, all meaning, or then again, the people you love: one by one, they fade away. Some announce their departure before they leave, while others just disappear all of a sudden without warning one day. And once you lose them you can never get them back. Your search for replacements never goes well. It’s all very painful – as painful as actually being cut with a knife.”
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

Carlos Ruiz Zafón
“Once, in my father's bookshop, I heard a regular customer say that few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into his heart. Those first images, the echo of words we think we have left behind, accompany us throughout our lives and sculpt a palace in our memory to which, sooner or later—no matter how many books we read, how many worlds we discover, or how much we learn or forget—we will return.”
Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of the Wind

Carlos Ruiz Zafón
“Remember me, even if it's only in a corner and secretly. Don't let me go.”
Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Haruki Murakami
“You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days somebody is going to find you.”
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

Sylvia Plath
“I want to love somebody because I want to be loved. In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of the wheels I will be safe. I am very tired, very banal, very confused. I do not know who I am tonight. I wanted to walk until I dropped and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home. I have lived in boxes above, below, and down the hall from girls who think hard, feel similarly, and long companionably, and I have not bothered to cultivate them because I did not want to, could not, sacrifice the time. People know who I am, and the harder I try to know who they are, the more I forget their names - I want to be alone, and yet there are times when the liquid eye and the cognizant grin of a small monkey would send me into a crying fit of brotherly love. I work and think alone. I live with people, and act. I love and cherish both. If I knew now what I wanted I would know when I saw it, who he was.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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