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Quote by Munia Khan

“Starlight beats when heart twinkles Youthful sky beyond cloudy wrinkles Muse of glory to flame the night Verse inscribed as written light”

Quote by Munia Khan

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Munia Khan

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“All summers take me back to the sea. There in the long eelgrass, like birds' eggs waiting to be hatched, my brothers and sister and I sit, grasses higher than our heads, arms and legs like thicker versions of the grass waving in the wind, looking up at the blue sky. My mother is gathering food for dinner: clams and mussels and the sharply salty greens that grow by the shore. It is warm enough to lie here in the little silty puddles like bathwater left in the tub after the plug has been pulled. It is the beginning of July and we have two months to live out the long, nurturing days, watching the geese and the saltwater swans and the tides as they are today, slipping out, out, out as the moon pulls the other three seasons far away wherever it takes things. Out past the planets, far away from Uranus and the edge of our solar system, into the brilliantly lit dark where the things we don't know about yet reside. Out past my childhood, out past the ghosts, out past the breakwater of the stars. Like the silvery lace curtains of my bedroom being drawn from my window, letting in light, so the moon gently pulls back the layers of the year, leaving the best part open and free. So summer comes to me.”

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Book:My One Hundred Adventures
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“She was an extension of his dreams. A sprinkling of magic dust, of unfeasible wishes, on his stable existence. The one thing-the one bright, marvelous thing-he wanted more than the world, but didn't deserve. However much he was tortured for her sake, however much blood he had spilled to protect her, the bruises to his body and the thrashings to his sanity, it would never be enough to make a wretch like him worthy of such a miracle.”

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Book:Sand for Dreams
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“— Ти знаєш, що ми всі діти зірок? — запитала Манон, щільно притуливши теплі губи до його вуха, щоб не порушувати гірську тишу. — Коли мільярди років тому зірки вибухнули, залізо й срібло, золото й вуглець дощем посипалися вниз. І залізо того зоряного пилу тепер у нас — у наших мітохондріях. Матері передають зірки і своє залізо своїм дітям. Хто знає, Жане, може, ми з тобою створені з пилу однієї й тієї самої зірки. Можливо, ми впізнали одне одного за її світлом. Ми шукали одне одного. Ми — шукачі зірок.”

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Book:The Little Paris Bookshop
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