The only paradise we know through our senses and intuition is that of the beloved, and the only hell, disappointment in love.
Had I known you, I would have possessed you, and had you known me, you would have possessed me. But then you and I would not be.
Coffee should not be drunk in a hurry. It is the sister of time, and should be sipped slowly, slowly. Coffee is the sound of taste, a sound for the aroma. It is a meditation and a plunge into memories and the soul.
The long road has drained me of all feelings and expectations. I don’t feel a thing or expect anything now.
Maybe the moon is beautiful only because it is far.
I am here. Anything more than that is rumor and slander.
So which of your Lord’s favors do you two deny? You and I are absent, you and I are present and absent. So which of your Lord’s favors do you two deny?
Come with me tonight so that we might make tonight a shared past, says the one afflicted with longing. I will come with you to make a shared tomorrow, says the one afflicted with love. She does not love the past and wants to forget the war that has ended. He fears tomorrow, because the war has not ended and he does not want to grow older.
A bit of mist and light suffice for life to overpower nothingness. A bit of hope and time suffice for you to cross the mountain trails of myth; you were spared the fate of your ancestors. So borrow the wisdom of the anemones and say: Nothingness does not concern me, even if death besieges me.
How often have I held back my complaint: Why should the Lebanese homeland be incompatible with Palestine? Why should the Egyptian loaf be incompatible with Palestine? Why should the Syrian roof be incompatible with Palestine? Why should Palestine be incompatible with Palestine?
They want time to move fast so they can paint their nails a provocative red and wear high heels that crack walnuts and make people jump. He wants time to slow down so he can prolong the enjoyment of walking among them, of being next to this self-contained beauty.
I used to invent love when necessary. When I walked alone on the riverbank. Or whenever the level of salt would rise in my body, I would invent the river.
I melt at your glances and become music.
When the image is identical to reality, the imagination is compelled to be neutral. Therefore let the image of the object lie to the object so we can see what lies beyond the object, and in the light of that vision see what saves us from nothingness.
We see them oiling their weapons to kill the gryphon they think is hiding in our hen coop. And we cannot help laughing.
The image of love reveals itself there; in a profoundly present absence.
Graveyards have the dignity of air, the authority of dust.
Fame is the enemy of instinct and spontaneity, the difference between what is said and what ought to be said, and the transformation of one person into two.
I testify that I am free and alive when I am forgotten.
I am besieged by contradiction.