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Quote by janette winterson

“New recruits cry when they come here and they think about their mothers and their sweethearts and they think about going home. They remember what it is about home that holds their hearts; not sentiment or show but faces they love. Most of these recruits aren’t seventeen and they’re asked to do in a few weeks. What vexes the best philosophers for a lifetime; that is, to gather of their passion for life and make sense of it in the face of death. They don’t know how, but they do know how to forget, and little by little they put aside the burning summer in their body, and all they have instead is lust and rage.”

Quote by janette winterson

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janette winterson

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“I left the bank because they wouldn’t deposit my cheque of poems. So I went to the store, but they didn’t accept my currency of words. So I boxed all my stories and took them to charity. But they refused my donation and asked me to give blood instead. I opened the notebooks and made them look, 'What do you think I wrote these in?”

WritingStoriesPoetryBloodBooksPoetPoemQuoteCharityWordsPoemsWriterCurrencyKamandKojouriKamand KojouriDonationAcceptBankStoreWroteDepositNotebooksChequeBoxed
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“هر یکشنبه شب، پس از مراسم شامگاه در نمازخانه ی مدرسه، چتریس نام شاگردان قدیمی را که در جنگ کشته شده بودند می خواند و زندگینامه ی کوتاهی از آنها را چاشنی سخن می کرد. بسیار هیجان انگیز بود؛ اما چیپس، نشسته بر نیمکت دراز نمازخانه، به خود می گفت: برای چتریس آنها چیزی جز نام نیستند؛ او قیافه ی آنها را آن طور که من می بینم، نمی بیند....”

WarTeachingPassage Of TimeEnglish Literatureآموزشجنگادبیات انگلیسگذر زمان
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“(Donor Countries) When are we going to understand that donor countries never give anything for free? When are we going to realize that only those with the largest role in destruction offer themselves as benefactors? They donate merely to reshape societies and ravaged lands according to their whims and desires… Their sole aim is to keep the defeated, the marginalized, the disempowered, and the impoverished in that state for as long as possible… When are we going to see that the quickest way to name the world’s greatest criminals is simply to scan the list of donor countries? November 12, 2022”

WarDevelopmentExploitationImperialismThird WorldRefugeesReconstructionDecolonizationArabic PoetryPlundering
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“A Sweet Woman from a War-Torn Country” In her exile, they often describe her as that ‘sweet woman from a war-torn country.’ They don’t know she loved smelling roses, picking spring wildflowers, and bringing them home after long walks. They don’t know about the first kiss her lover stole during a church power outage on that Easter evening— before the generators came on. They don’t know the long hours she spent under the ancient walnut tree in her village, waiting for her grandfather’s call to share freshly baked pita with ghee and honey. They don’t know about her grandmother’s mixed grains, prepared each year before Easter fasting began. In exile, they try to be kind, telling her she now lives in a ‘safe haven.’ They assume her silence comes from poor language skills or simple agreement with them. They don’t know life’s shocks have silenced her forever. Now she presses her ear against the cold window glass of her apartment, listening to the wind’s mournful cry outside. They remind her she’s among people who honor all values, beliefs, religions, and ethnicities— but she has learned it’s all too late. She no longer needs assurances. Occasionally, all she asks for is a sincere hand on her shoulder or around her neck, to remind her that nothing lasts, that this too shall pass. [Published on April 7, 2023 on CounterPunch.org]”

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“London. “Look Olivier. Quite a sight isn’t it?” Commandant Auguste Angers stood tall in his stirrups as he pointed out the far distant dome of St. Paul’s. The bronzed roof of the cathedral was glistening in the sun during a brief break in the clouds. The commandant and his colleague and deputy, Captain Olivier Rougemont, had enjoyed a morning’s exhilarating ride in Richmond Park. The commandant was riding his favourite grey, Chloe, and Rougemont was on his boss’s second string, a chestnut Annette.”

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Book:The French Spy
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