Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.
When a writer declares that his first book is his best, that is bad. I progress successively from book to book.
The metaphor for Palestine is stronger than the Palestine of reality.
This peace will leave us as a cluster of dust...
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?
We see them oiling their weapons to kill the gryphon they think is hiding in our hen coop. And we cannot help laughing.
We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.