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“...the fanatics who slaughter the innocent and defenseless, pillaging villages, enslaving women and children, believe themselves to be holy. With every sorrow and suffering they rain on other humans, they expect to earn favor in the eyes of God, move closer to completing the bridge from this world to their exclusive paradise. How can anyone assume they will please the Creator by hurting His Creation?”

“I want you to be very successful. Remember, people like us cannot afford to fail "People like us"… immigrants, exiles, refugees, newcomers, outsiders… Too many words for a shared, recognizable sentiment that, no matter how often described, remains largely undefined. Children of uprooted parents are born into the memory tribe. Both their present and their future are forever shaped by their ancestral past, regardless of whether they have any knowledge of it. If they flourish and prosper, their achievements will be attributed to a whole community; and, in the same way, their failures will be charged up to something bigger and older than themselves, be it family, religion, or ethnicity. While the journey of life may be full of reversals of fortune, children from displaced families can never allow themselves to fall below the level at which their parents started it out.”

“Inside, I found three things: a silver mirror, a silk handkerchief, and a glass flask of ointment. These items will help you on your journey. use them when need be. If you ever lose faith in yourself, the mirror will show your inner beauty. In case your reputation is stained, the handkerchief will remind you of how pure your heart is. As for the balm, it will heal your wounds, both inside and outside.”

“Through the range of the months of the year, every month knows the particular season it belongs to and behaves accordingly. Every month but one. March. March is most unbalanced in Istanbul, both psychologically and physically. March might decide she belongs to the spring season, warm and fragrant, only to change her mind the very next day, turning into winter sending chilly winds and sleet all around.”

“Nikad se nije prestao čuditi mizernom napretku ljudskog roda kad je riječ od pogrebnim obredima. Vrsta koja je izmislila digitalne satove, otkrila DNK i stvorila strojeve za magnetsku rezonanciju, bijedno je zakazala u zbrinjavanju svojih mrtvih. Danas je u tome jedva imalo naprednija nego prije tisuću godina. Istina, oni koji se valjaju u novcu i mašti naizgled imaju malo veći izbor od ostalih; oni savoj pepeo mogu rasuti u svemir, ako žele. Ili se mogu dati zalediti - u nadi da će za sto godina biti oživljeni. Ali većini ljudi opcije su prilično ograničene: pokop ili kremacija. I to je otprilike to. Ako tamo gore postoji Bog, sigurno se grohotom smije ljudskom rodu koji je sposoban stvoriti atomske bombe i umjetnu inteligenciju, ali se još uvijek nije pomirio s vlastitom smrtnošću i ne zna što da učini sa svojim mrtvima. Patetično je pokušavati degradirati smrt na periferiju života, kad je ona u središtu svega.”

“Миналото е въпрос на тълкуване. Бъдещето е илюзия. Светът не се движи като по права черта през времето и не върви от миналото към бъдещето. Обратното, времето се движи на безкрайни спирали през и вътре в нас. Вечността не е безкрайно време, тя е безвремие. Ако искаш да постигнеш вечно просветление, премахни от съзнанието си миналото и бъдещето и живей в настоящия миг.”

“Posmrtni ostaci... Što to točno znači? Je li to nekoliko tvrdih kostiju i mekog tkiva? Odjeća i modni dodaci? Stvari koje su dovoljno čvrste i kompaktne da stanu u lijes? Ili je to ono neopipljivo - riječi koje šaljemo u eter, snovi koje zadržimo za sebe, otkucaji srca koje preskočimo uz svoje ljubavnike, praznine koje pokušavamo ispuniti i nikad ne možemo artikulirati na primjeren način - na kraju balade, što ostaje od jednog cijelog života, jednog ljudskog bića... i može li se to doista iskopati iz zemlje?”

“Remember my heart. Story-time is different from clock time." Clock-time, however punctual it may purport to be, is distorted and deceptive. It runs under the illusion that everything is moving steadily forward, and the future, therefore, will always be better than the past. Story-time understands the fragility of peace, the fickleness of circumstances, the dangers lurking in the night but also appreciates small acts of kindness. That is why minorities do not live in clock-time. They live in story-time.”

“Адът е тук и сега. Раят също. Престани да се плашиш от ада и да мечтаеш за рая, защото и едното, и другото е заложено в настоящия миг. Всеки път, когато се влюбим, се въздигаме в рая. Всеки път, когато мразим, завиждаме или се опълчваме срещу някого, падаме право в адския огън.”

“That was the problem with all these butterfly-life-spanned girlfriends the scenarist brought with him. Driven by an impulse to become friends with everyone in the group, they asked too many personal questions and made too many personal comments, miserably failing to acknowledge that it was precisely the opposite, the lack of any serious and sincere interest in each other's privacy, which drew the group members to one another.”

“There were more important things than passion and love in a marriage, such as understanding, affection, compassion, and that most godlike act a person could perform forgiveness. Love was secondary to any of these. Unless, that is, one lived in novels or romantic movies, where the protagonists were always larger than life and their love nothing short of a legend.”