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Quote by Paulo Coelho

“Criminals kill journalists/hostages in France, devout Muslims pay the bill all over Europe.”

Quote by Paulo Coelho

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Paulo Coelho
Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho, born on August 24, 1947, is a renowned Brazilian author and lyricist. His works are characterized by profound philosophical thoughts and rich imagination, with his most famous novel being 'The Alchemist'. more

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“KALEM Allah-u Ekber, Ne kutsal bir söz öbeği kimilerince, Oldu mu şimdi birilerini öldürürken söylenince? Çölde kum tanesi kendini kaktüs belleyince, Dikenlerini saplamadan duramaz imiş işte! Senin kalaşnikofların var, Benimse kalemim. Senin ölüm tarlaların var, Benimse dolmayı bekleyen düşdefterim. Sen simsiyah nefretinle büyüyorsun, Bense rengarenk çizgilerimle. Ben yaşamak ve özgürce çizmek istiyorum, Sen beni ekberin için öldürüyorsun. Oldu mu şimdi söyle, Ha kardeşim? Farkında değilsin, Sen aslında bensin, Ben de Charlie'yim! #JeSuisCharlie *** ÖZGÜR SANAT ASLA VE ASLA SUSTURULAMAZ!”

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Book:Karanlıkta Kör Dokunuşlar
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“Die Grenze verläuft nicht nach Religionszugehörigkeit, sie trennt vielmehr Extremisten und friedliebende Menschen. Deshalb bin ich optimistisch: Es wird nun ein humanistischer Islam wachgerüttelt. Der moderate Islam muss endlich aus der Deckung treten und erklären, wie mit den gewaltverherrlichenden Stellen im Koran umzugehen ist. Die Verdrängung, das habe nichts mit unserem Glauben zu tun, funktioniert nicht länger. Wir müssen uns dieser Herausforderung stellen.”

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Author:Mouhanad Khorchide
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“Wouldst like to con a glimmer with me this early black?’, which he [Cab Calloway] helpfully explains as ‘the proper way to ask a young lady to go to the movies’. It should be noted here, that if the object of your affections replies ‘Kill me’, they are not requesting to be euthanatised and you should not actually murder them. Kill me is merely the Cab Calloway way of saying ‘Show me a good time’ and is the best response you could have hoped for. Jive was rather confusing in this way.”

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Book:The Horologicon: A Day's Jaunt Through the Lost Words of the English Language
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“THE ANTHEM OF HOPE Tiny footprints in mud, metal scraps among thistles Child who ambles barefooted through humanity’s war An Elderflower in mud, landmines hidden in bristles Blood clings to your feet, your wee hands stiff and sore You who walk among trenches, midst our filth and our gore Box of crayons in hand, your tears tumble like crystals Gentle, scared little boy, at the heel of Hope Valley, The grassy heel of Hope Valley. And the bombs fall-fall-fall Down the slopes of Hope Valley Bayonets cut-cut-cut Through the ranks of Hope Valley Napalm clouds burn-burn-burn All who fight in Hope Valley, All who fall in Hope Valley. Bullets fly past your shoulder, fireflies light the sky Child who digs through the trenches for his long sleeping father You plant a kiss on his forehead, and you whisper goodbye Vain corpses, brave soldiers, offered as cannon fodder Nothing is left but a wall; near its pallor you gather Crayon ready, you draw: the memory of a lie Kind, sad little boy, sketching your dream of Hope Valley Your little dream of Hope Valley. Missiles fly-fly-fly Over the fields of Hope Valley Carabines shoot-shoot-shoot The brave souls of Hope Valley And the tanks shell-shell-shell Those who toiled for Hope Valley, Those who died for Hope Valley. In the light of gunfire, the little child draws the valley Every trench is a creek; every bloodstain a flower No battlefield, but a garden with large fields ripe with barley Ideations of peace in his dark, final hour And so the child drew his future, on the wall of that tower Memories of times past; your tiny village lush alley Great, brave little boy, the future hope of Hope Valley The only hope of Hope Valley. And the grass grows-grows-grows On the knolls of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom Across the hills of Hope Valley The midday sun shines-shines-shines On the folk of Hope Valley On the dead of Hope Valley From his Aerodyne fleet The soldier faces the carnage Uttering words to the fallen He commends their great courage Across a wrecked, tower wall A child’s hand limns the valley And this drawing speaks volumes Words of hope, not of bally He wipes his tears and marvels The miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley And the grass grows-grows-grows Midst all the dead of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom For all the dead of Hope Valley The evening sun sets-sets-sets On the miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley (lyrics to "the Anthem of Hope", a fictional song featured in Louise Blackwick's Neon Science-Fiction novel "5 Stars".”

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“For some reason people have developed a liking for only one sort of transformation. They are fond of increase and development, but not decrease and disintegration. They prefer ripening to decay. They like things to be younger and younger, more and more juicy, fresh and unripe; they like things that are not yet fully moulded, still a bit angular; driven by a powerful spring of potential, what might still happen, always the moment before, never after.”

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Book:House of Day, House of Night
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