N > N's Quotes

“The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

“It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Diary

“All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

“A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.”
― Mark Twain

“I've been making a list of the things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody. They don't teach you how to be famous. They don't teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind. They don't teach you what to say to someone who's dying. They don't teach you anything worth knowing.”
― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

“An original idea. That can't be too hard. The library must be full of them.”
― Stephen Fry

“Age shouldn't affect you. It's just like the size of your shoes - they don't determine how you live your life! You're either marvellous or you're boring, regardless of your age.”
― Morrissey

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword”
― Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

“Nor did he give a damn for the world either, or the universe, or heaven or hell. But he liked women.”
― John Fante, The Brotherhood of the Grape

“I'm a godmother, that's a great thing to be, a godmother. She calls me god for short, that's cute, I taught her that.”
― Ellen DeGeneres

“حقي في ممارسة اليأس لا يقل عن حقكَ في اقتراف الأمل ، كلٌّ له نعيمه. وقد وجدتُ في اليأس سعادتي”
― فيصل الحبيني

“التائه لا يسكن مكانا، ولكن الأماكن، كل الأماكن، تسكن في فضاء قلبه.”
― فيصل الحبيني

“وإذا جاءك الفرح مرة أخرى ،فلا تذّكر خيانته السابقة ..أدخل الفرح وانفجر!”
― محمود درويش, يوميات الحزن العادي

“أن نكون ودودين مع مَنْ يكرهوننا، وقساةً
مع مَنْ يحبّونَنا - تلك هي دُونيّة المُتعالي،
وغطرسة الوضيع!

أيها الماضي! لا تغيِّرنا... كلما ابتعدنا عنك!

أيها المستقبل: لا تسألنا: مَنْ أنتم؟
وماذا تريدون مني؟ فنحن أيضاً لا نعرف.

أَيها الحاضر! تحمَّلنا قليلاً، فلسنا سوى
عابري سبيلٍ ثقلاءِ الظل”
― محمود درويش

“أتمنى أن أبكي و أرتجف , التصق بواحد من الكبار , لكن الحقيقة القاسية هي أنك الكبار! .. أنت من يجب أن يمنح القوة و الأمن للآخرين!”
― أحمد خالد توفيق

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
― David Foster Wallace

“كل ما أعرفه هو أنني تعبتُ من نفسي ومن كل شيء، وبأن قلبي ثقب يمكن المرور عبره لكن يستحيل البقاء فيه”
― سنان أنطون, وحدها شجرة الرمان

“What do you do from morning to night?"

"I endure myself.”
― Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born