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Quote by Khaled Ibrahim

“I write only... To rid myself of what has clung to my heart. I don’t want it, even if it holds my salvation. I seek innocence from every pain it left behind, And to rise above their abandonment when I needed them most. I long to erase them from my memory, as if they never were, To empty this sorrow that has settled in my chest, Then walk away… without turning back. But deep within me, What I fear most of all... Is that I may never stop writing.”

Quote by Khaled Ibrahim

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Khaled Ibrahim

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“Readers may be divided into four classes: I. Sponges, who absorb all they read, and return it nearly in the same state, only a little dirtied. II. Sand-glasses, who retain nothing, and are content to get through a book for the sake of getting through the time. III. Strain-bags, who retain merely the dregs of what they read. IV. Mogul diamonds, equally rare and valuable, who profit by what they read, and enable others to profit by it also.”

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Book:Notes and Lectures upon Shakespeare and Some of the Old Poets and Dramatists: With Other Literary Remains of S. T. Coleridge. Volume 1
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“There are metaphors more real than the people who walk in the street. There are images tucked away in books that live more vividly than many men and women. There are phrases from literary works that have a positively human personality. There are passages from my own writing that chill me with fright, so distinctly do I feel them as people, so sharply outlined do they appear against the walls of my room, at night, in shadows... I've written sentences whose sound, read out loud or silently (impossible to hide their sound), can only be of something that acquired absolute exteriority and a full-fledged soul.”

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Book:The Book of Disquiet
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“I loved you unconditionally — for you, not for anything else. I loved you without ever seeing you, without even hearing your voice. I loved you despite everything, and never grew tired. I loved you with complete honesty, as if you were my first… and last love. And yet, all of that was not enough. You were the punishment I deserved… as if love itself were my sin.”

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Author:Khaled Ibrahim
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