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Quote by Henri van Wermeskerken

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De oceaanvlucht: modern spel van lucht en oceanen in vier bedrijven

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Henri van Wermeskerken

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“History proves beyond any possibility of doubt that no religion has ever given a stimulus to scientific progress comparable to that of Islam. The encouragement which learning and scientific research received from Islamic theology resulted in the splendid cultural achievements in the days of the Umayyads and Abbasids and the Arab rule in Sicily and Spain. I do not mention this in order that we might boast of those glorious memories at a time when the Islamic world has forsaken its own traditions and reverted to spiritual blindness and intellectual poverty. We have no right, in our present misery, to boast of past glories. But we must realize that it was the negligence of the Muslims and not any deficiency in the teachings of Islam that caused our present decay. Islam has never been a barrier to progress and science. It appreciates the intellectual activities of man to such a degree as to place him above the angels. No other religion ever went so far in asserting the dominance of reason and, consequently, of learning, above all other manifestations of human life.”

ScienceHistoryIslam
Book:Islam at the Crossroads
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“Als klein meisje hield ik erg van wat ik 'boekjes maken' noemde. Ik nam een opschrijfboekje en plakte er plaatjes in, maakte tekeningen, experimenteerde met Prittstift en puntenslijpsel (dat wordt gewoon heel mooi samen, echt) en schreef op wat ik allemaal meemaakte. 'We zijn vandaag naar Paleis 't Loo geweest', bijvoorbeeld, 'Het was er heel mooi want de koningin heeft daar vroeger gewoond.' Of: 'Ik heb een nieuw badpak gekregen. Het is heel tof met roze en paars en mama zegt dat het een echt wedstrijdbadpak is.' De belevenissen van een achtjarige. Veel later, als dertienjarige, chagrijnige, prehormonale puber, schreef ik cynisch commentaar in de kantlijn van mijn kleinemeisjesdagboek: 'Ja hoor', en: 'Leuk voor je.' Weer later, toen ik zeventien was en op zoek naar lege blaadjes voor mijn weltschmerz-poezie, werd ik boos op de dertienjarige die zo cru was tegen dat kleine enthousiaste meisje. Zo gemeen vond ik het. Als een reaguurder avant la lettre, een agressieve internettrol die zo nodig moet zeiken op iemand die gewoon gezellig iets wil vertellen. Weliswaar niet op internet - dat was nog lang niet uitgevonden - maar op mijn eigen, persoonlijke web van negentientoen naar tweeduizendzoveel. Als dertienjarige verachtte ik het achtjarige kind dat ik was geweest, en als zeventienjarige verachtte ik de dertienjarige. Zo kan ik nog wel even doorgaan. Een leven lang, om precies te zijn. Want die gedichten waarvoor ik ruimte zocht in mijn dagboekjes, die dikdoenerij die ik maakte toen ik zeventien was, daar kon ik me als drieentwintigjarige alweer danig aan ergeren, en zo blijf je aan de gang. Maar, zoals The Lau het zo mooi zong in 'Rode Aarde': Edelman of bedelman Het zal je kind maar zijn De sterrenhemel leert Verschil is klein Vergeet niet wie je bent Is wie je altijd bent geweest”

Dagboek
Book:Neem een geit
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“Years ago I had realized I was blaming myself for it. People and doctors would tell me it wasn't my fault, but I couldn't “BELIEVE” it! Then I was talking to my friend Kieran and he explained to me in a way that I could PERCEIVE that I was not at fault. No one else could ever do that before, though many tried. Many, many people had tried to tell me it wasn't my fault, but I was convinced it was my fault because I was trying to cheer up my dad.”

PsychologyDenialChild AbusePtsdPosttraumatic Stress DisorderCore BeliefsSelf BlameCognitive DistortionsSchema
Author:Robert Anthony
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“In this part of America, 'R's' are the dissidents of the alphabet. They won't be ruled. Behind closed doors, they conspire and print leaflets. They make love to many women. They smoke cigarettes in place of eating food. Then, in front of witnesses with no recourse to justice, they are pulled from their beds in the middle of the night. Some are imprisoned. Some silenced. Others go missing. A few reappear sealed up in the wall of another word if they are found at all. Thus, a thought that is valued is truly an 'idear.' Wanda comes out as Wonder or Wander and both fit her.”

DarkMemoirNew England Towns
Book:American Girl: Memories That Made Me
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“The foundries were vast, dark castles built for efficiency, not comfort. Even in the mild New England summers, when the warm air combined with the stagnant heat from the machines or open flames in the huge melting rooms where the iron was cast, the effects were overwhelming. The heat came in unrelenting waves and sucked the soul from your body. In the winter, the enormous factories were impossible to heat and frigid New England air reigned supreme in the long halls. The work was difficult, noisy, mind-numbing, sometimes dangerous and highly regulated. Bathroom and lunch breaks were scheduled down to the second. There was no place to make a private phone call. Company guards, dressed in drab uniforms straight out of a James Cagney prison film [those films were in black and white, notoriously tough, weren’t there to guard company property. They were there to keep an eye on us. No one entered or the left the building without punching in or out on a clock, because the doors were locked and opened electronically from the main office.”

WorkingFactoryNew England Towns
Book:No Time to Say Goodbye: A Memoir of a Life in Foster Care
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