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Quote by Azar Nafisi

“These characters depend to such a high degree on their own sense of integrity that for them, victory has nothing to do with happiness. It has more to do with a settling within oneself, a movement inward that makes them whole. Their reward is not happiness...what James's characters gain is self-respect.”

Quote by Azar Nafisi

Work

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

In this memoir, the author reflects on her personal journey of discovering books and the profound impact they had on her life in Tehran, Iran. The narrative delves into the significance of reading forbidden literature during a time of political and social upheaval. more

Author

Azar Nafisi
Azar Nafisi

Azar Nafisi is an Iranian-born American writer and scholar, renowned for her experiences during the Islamic Revolution in Iran and her work 'Reading Lolita in Tehran'. She taught English literature at the University of Tehran and was forced to leave Iran after the revolution. Nafisi later moved to the United States and earned a Ph.D. from Georgetown University. more

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“Sometimes I have to act crazy to handle the crazies. Trying to be normal near the crazies makes me as crazy as them. The more I push reason and logic on them, the more they pervert it and use it against me, the angrier they make me feel. It's much easier to pretend they're ghosts talking to the wind, and ignore them as if they weren't really human. My mood improves, my self-esteem is better and I feel happier. On another hand, maybe I'm just being realistic here, because you can't really talk to the dead. That's what people without respect or empathy are; dead in the brain; just walking bodies without a soul.”

“So it was just herself. In this world with these people she wanted to be the person who would never again need rescue. Not from Lenore through the lies of the Rat, not from Dr. Beau through the courage of Sarah and her brother. [...] She wanted to be the one who rescued her own self. [...] Wishing would not make it so, nor would blame, but thinking might. If she did not respect herself, why should anybody else?”

“The Layers I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am compelled to look before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings. Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses? In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends, those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face. Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me. In my darkest night, when the moon was covered and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: “Live in the layers, not on the litter.” Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written. I am not done with my changes.”