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Quote by Stephen Hawking

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Stephen Hawking
Stephen Hawking

Stephen Hawking was a renowned British theoretical physicist known for his contributions to the fields of black hole theory and cosmology. Born on January 8, 1942, he overcame the challenges of ALS to become a global icon of science and perseverance. more

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“البقاء مع الجماعة يبدد الفزع و لا شيء يثير الخوف مثل الانفراد... أم أذهب لكوخ مرتا القريب و أصلح ما انكسر بيننا ثم أتوسد الأرض تحت سريرها... أنا لا أعرف الكثير عنها... لم أرها من الداخل ولم أر أي شيء من داخله، أنا أطوّف دوما بظاهر الأشياء ولا أغوص فيها. بل إني أخشى أخشى الغوص في باطني، لكني أعرف حقيقة ذاتي الملتبسة,,, كل ما فيّملتبس... عمادي رهبنتي إيماني أشعاري معارفي الطبيّة محبتي لمرتا... أنا التباس في التباس! و الالتباس نقيض الإيمان، مثلما إبليس نقيض الله الراهب هيبا في تأملاته”

“After receiving a diagnosis, the minimal resources that we may be linked to (if we're lucky) are for the benefit of parents, carers and those who are third-party viewers, rather than for neurodivergent people. We're given books that have been created by doctors and psychologists and neurologists who may have studied our brains for a number of years and can spit out information until the cows come home. But, assuming they are neurotypical, they have never and will never experience or understand what it feels like to have our minds. We're given clinical books and clinical videos, and are taught as soon as the new label is attached to us that it's a cold, medical, distant thing, like our brains are no longer ours. And, when we try to rid ourselves of these views and do our own research in an attempt to find things that feel closer to home and less analytical and impersonal, we are led to articles, sob stories, and posts that highlight the disappointment, fear and sorrow that surround all aspects of us, making us feel further invalidated, segregated and alienated.”

“Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas. "Here, sir," said Peter. "These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present. "Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you." Last of all he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagger is to defend yourself at great need. For you also are not to be in the battle." "Why, sir?" said Lucy. "I think- I don't know- but I think I could be brave enough." "That is not the point," he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight.”

“A tree does not stop growing because the wind blew off a few of its leaves.”

“We're becoming slaves; the war scatters us in all directions, takes away everything we own, snatches the bread from out of our mouths; let me at least retain the right to decide my own destiny, to laugh at it, defy it, escape it if I can. A slave? Better to be a slave than a dog who thinks he's free as he trots along behind his master. She listened to the sound of men and horses passing by. They don't even realise they're slaves, she said to herself, and I, I would be just like them if a sense of pity, solidarity, the "spirit of the hive" forced me to refuse to be happy.”