Bitter Orange Tree Quotes

“All women become their mothers. That is their tragedy.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“She had died, gone silently, left the world as she lived in it, without a home, without a field, without a beloved one to hold her close, without a brother to take care of her, and never having children who came out of her own body.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“He raced other boys his age through the little ponds left behind by rainstorms.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“The fragile bird of life took us along. We clung to its wings so hard that they dissolved in our grip; and so we tried to put those feathers on ourselves. We dressed ourselves in those feathers, and we drank the blood of that bird we had destroyed, and we told ourselves, "We will go on." We kept saying that, even as the bird apart, ripped to pieces in our fingers, and as we had to endure the acrid taste of its blood beneath our tongues. "We will go on," we said. And then we waited expectantly for the bird of life to soar again into the sky, taking us with it. We waited and waited.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“When my grandmother died, the bitter orange tree died. Day after day, it withered a little more until it was completely dried out. In vain we watered it, each taking our turn, and my father replaced the dirt just beneath and around it with fresh soil. He bought the fertilizer, and the Bengali who worked for us enlisted the help of his friends who worked on farms. They poured all their experience into the bitter orange tree, but it didn't respond to anyone's efforts. The narinjah made up its mind, and before the soil over my grandmother's burial place was dry, it had stopped sucking in water and air. It began to give off a smell of rot. The odor of goodbye.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“Now, memory becomes a vanishing fragrance, the memory is gone, and this is where the pure, calm sunset fades into nothing.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“The clear, beautiful sunset and the dead body.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“Her life was like a paper kite. She would lift her head to watch as it went bobbing by, the breeze taking it farther and farther away.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“One bitter orange tree was her favourite, but no tree that she planted and tended never withered. But still, it was our house, our courtyard, our trees. She lived with us, that's all. She didn't own the building, or the land, or even us. I think of her as my grandmother, but we weren't really her grandchildren.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree

“One bitter tree was her favourite, but no tree that she planted and tended never withered. But still, it was our house, our courtyard, our trees. She lived with us, that's all. She didn't own the building, or the land, or even us. I think of her as my grandmother, but we weren't really her grandchildren.”
― Jokha Alharthi, Bitter Orange Tree