ألا تعتقد أن كل انسان يغير نظرته بوعي أو بدون وعي بعد انتهائه من قراءة كتاب

Their words also make it a lot easier for people to justify that shift -- to convince themselves that surfing the Web is a suitable, even superior, substitute for deep reading and other forms of calm and attentive thought. In arguing that books are archaic and dispensable, Federman and Shirky provide the intellectual cover that allows thoughtful people to slip comfortably in the permanent state of distractedness that defines the online life.

كان يخشى في أغلب الأحيان أن يجدها جالسة على أرض الدكان الذي تشتري منه السجائر.

We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it's easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.

No one stepping for the first time into a room made of books can know instinctively how to behave, what is expected, what is promised, what is allowed. One may be overcome by horror--at the cluster or the vastness, the stillness, the mocking reminder of everything one doesn't know, the surveillance--and some of that overwhelming feeling may cling on, even after the rituals and conventions are learned, the geography mapped, and the natives found friendly.

If you have not touched the rocky wall of a canyon. If you have not heard a rushing river pound over cobblestones. If you have not seen a native trout rise in a crystalline pool beneath a shattering riffle, or a golden eagle spread its wings and cover you in shadow. If you have not seen the tree line recede to the top of a bare crested mountain. If you have not looked into a pair of wild eyes and seen your own reflection. Please, for the good of your soul, travel west.

WIDE, the margin between carte blanche and the white page. Nevertheless it is not in the margin that you can find me, but in the yet whiter one that separates the word-strewn sheet from the transparent, the written page from the one to be written in the infinite space where the eye turns back to the eye, and the hand to the pen, where all we write is erased, even as you write it. For the book imperceptibly takes shape within the book we will never finish.There is my desert.

The fire? It has been alive as long as I have. We talk and think together all night long. It’s like a book to me – the only book I ever learned to read; and many an old story it tells me. It’s music, for I should know its voice among a thousand, and there are other voices in its roar. It has its pictures too. You don’t know how many strange faces and different scenes I trace in the red-hot coals. It’s my memory, that fire, and shows me all my life.

School did give me one of the greatest gifts of my life, though. I learned how to read, and for that I remain thankful. I would have died otherwise. As soon as I was able, I read, alone. Under the covers with a flashlight or in my corner of the attic—I sought solace in books. It was from books that I started to get an inkling of the kinds of assholes I was dealing with. I found allies too, in books, characters my age who were going through or had triumphed against the same bullshit.

– Io non potrò mai darti quel genere di sensazioni, mi dispiace.– Ed io non le voglio … perché ho capito che è facile innamorarsi di un mito. Chi non s’innamorerebbe di un attore bello e famoso? Chi rifiuterebbe un’attrice bella e famosa? Chi non resterebbe senza parole se qualcuno che ha carisma, ed è amato da tutti, decidesse di dargli attenzione?– Chi sa amarsi per quello che è e non per quello che vorrebbe essere.

Majina ya vitabu yanapaswa kuchaguliwa kwa mantiki na kwa makini ya hali ya juu mno, kwa sababu ni miongoni mwa vitu vya kwanza watu wanavyoviona na kuvisoma. Watu wakivutiwa na jina la kitabu, au mwandishi; kitu cha pili watakachovutiwa kuangalia ni dibaji, kusudi wasome muhtasari wa kitabu kizima. Kwa hiyo dibaji inapaswa iandikwe kwa mantiki na kwa makini ileile iliyotumika katika kuchagua jina la kitabu. Lengo la jina la kitabu na dibaji ni kuishawishi hadhira kusoma kitabu na kukifurahia.

Life can’t be divided into chapters...only minutes. The events of your life are all crammed together one minute right after the other without any time lapses or blank pages or chapter breaks because no matter what happens life just keeps going and moving forward and words keep flowing and truths keep spewing whether you like it or not and life never lets you pause and just catch your fucking breath.I need one of those chapter breaks. I just want to catch my breath, but I have no idea how.

He lived like a devil and died like a saint. Life is paradoxical, but I believe that I could also be the person I am today, if life would have cut me with happiness, instead of pain. I would be the same. I didn’t need the pain to grow, or be who I really am inside of me. Because life, life cuts you like a precious stone and shows the brilliance of your essence…but maybe we can learn also with joy and happiness, and turn into the same persons, just happier. We don’t need pain to learn

أضافت المصوّر بتحبّب أمومي : «أجساد عارية. ولكن هذا أمر طبيعي جداً! وكل ما هو طبيعي جميل!».

Parvati has wrathful incarnations surely,As Durga, Kali, Shitala Devi, Tara, Chandi, She has benevolent forms like Katyayani, Kamalatmika, Bhuvaneshwari, Lalita, Gauri.Parvati as the Goddess of Power does be,Who source of all forms and of all beings be,In Her all the power but exists undoubtedly,And She who the destroys all fear clearly be.The apparent contradiction that Parvati be,The fair one, Gauri, and the dark one, Kali,Suggests the placid wife, can change fully,To her primal chaotic nature as powerful Kali.