! لا تبق وحيداً ✼
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"عندما استيقظت هذا الصباح، هل كنتُ الشخص نفسه؟
إذا لم أكن الشخص نفسه فلأسأل إذاً. من أنا كرمى لله؟"
— Lewis Carroll

طفلة الكوليرا، ماري رشّو.

;
"My very existence, my life in the world, seemed like a hallucination. A strong wind would make me think my body was about to be blown to the end of the earth, to some land I had never seen or heard of, where my mind and body would separate forever. “Hold tight,” I would tell myself, but there was nothing for me to hold on to."
"Islam has never sought to put an equal sign between the sexes. ‘Woman’ can neither be studied nor understood in a context independent of ‘man’. The two are inseparable. The Prophet declared that women were “… the twin-halves of men.” The Qur’an confirmed this inter-dependence when it declared “They are your garments, and you are their garments.” And in a passage with sublime literary beauty the Qur’an (al-Lail, 92:1-4) first directed attention to the ‘night’ and that which it shrouds and conceals with such mystery and splendor, and then turned to the ‘day’ with its bright light which exposes everything and leaves nothing concealed, and then proceeded to explain that the ‘male’ and the ‘female’ are functionally analogous to the ‘day’ and the ‘night’. In the same way that ‘day’ and ‘night’ are functionally different yet interdependent, so too are the ‘male’ and ‘female’."
Woman and Paradise in Islam: Imran Hosein, :المرأة والجنة في الإسلام ،المقال بالعربية.

Where it all began.

"Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions."
— Susan Cain (via graspthesilence)
"Prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet."
— T. S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock