_jphonix

“Every single thing becomes a word in a language that Someone or Something, night and day, writes down in a never-ending scribble, which is the history of the world, embracing Rome, Carthage, you, me, everyone, my life, which I do not understand, this anguish of being enigma, accident, and puzzle, and all the discordant languages of Babel. Behind each name lies that which has no name. Today I feel its nameless shadow tremble in the blue clarity of the compass needle, whose rule extends as far as the far seas, something like a clock glimpsed in a dream or a bird that stirs suddenly in its sleep.”

“The idea that history might have copied history is mind-boggling enough; that history should copy literature is inconceivable.”

الجحيم هو أن تتذكر كل شيء

“Oh, yeah, One Hundred Years of Solitude is one of my fav books of all time, it’s such a beautiful story”

“Remembering is easy for those who have memory. Forgetting is hard for those who have a heart.”

... One night a friend lent me a book of short stories by Franz Kafka. I went back to the pension where I was staying and began to read The Metamorphosis. The first line almost knocked me off the bed. I was so surprised. The first line reads, “As Gregor Samsa awoke that morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. . . .” When I read the line I thought to myself that I didn’t know anyone was allowed to write things like that. If I had known, I would have started writing a long time ago. ...

“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”