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H Quotes

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All H Quotes

“Hammered into the Heart In the Sufi tradition light and knowledge are reflected from heart to heart. The heart is the organ of the higher consciousness — the consciousness of the Self. Spiritual teachings can be reflected or impressed directly into the heart, bypassing the limitations of the mind. . . . A further part of the Sufi training is to bring the mind into the heart, the mind 'hammered into the heart' as the Sufis say, so that the teachings given to the heart can be assimilated into everyday consciousness. A mind that has been brought into the heart can understand the ways of oneness, which are often paradoxical, sometimes even nonsensical, to the rational self.”

“Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally believed to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion. I remember well, for instance, the blind animal terror which ensued when some townie set off the civil defense sirens as a joke. Someone said it was a nuclear attack; TV and radio reception, never good there in the mountains, happened to be particularly bad that night, and in the ensuing stampede for the telephones the switchboard shorted out, plunging the school into a violent and almost unimaginable panic. Cars collided in the parking lot. People screamed, wept, gave away their possessions, huddled in small groups for comfort and warmth. Some hippies barricaded themselves in the Science Building, in the lone bomb shelter, and refused to let anyone in who didn't know the words to 'Sugar Magnolia'. Factions formed, leaders rose from the chaos. Though the world, in fact, was not destroyed, everyone had a marvelous time and people spoke fondly of the event for years afterward.”

“Han breaks a tangerine into sections and feeds them to her one by one. Then he cuts a lemon in half, sprinkles a spoonful of sugar over the cut top, and bites into it. Sirine looks around at the wandering palms and the dusty street. Just that morning the radio weatherman had said it would be an Indian summer scorcher. She slices open an avocado and sprinkles it with coarse salt before handing it to Han.”

“Han fyller sexton år idag, och hela sitt liv har han blivit retad och trakasserad. Utsidan, insidan, talet, adressen. Överallt. I skolan, i omklädningsrummet, på nätet. Det nöter ner en människa till sist, det syns inte så tydligt, för folk omkring ett mobbat barn inbillar sig att man blir väl van till sist. Aldrig, man vänjer sig aldrig. Man brinner hela tiden. Det är bara ingen som vet hur lång stubinen är, inte ens man själv.”

“Han sank. Hans tætklippede skæg var fyldt med tårer, der reflekterede solskinnet. ”Det hele startede, før du så det i nyhederne,” sagde han, selvom jeg allerede havde regnet den del ud. ”Da de viste manden ved grænsen, og alle troede, det var starten, havde vi allerede adskillelige tusinde døde, og evakueringen var startet. Alting foregår altid under overfladen, du ved, som et isbjerg. I den sidste besked sagde Sara, at de havde mødt Ester, vores nabo, på vej hjem fra Netto. At hun havde virket dårlig, svedende og rystende. Hun havde aet Erik på kinden, som hun plejede, og Sara havde ikke nået at stoppe hende. Så var hun gået ind for at lægge sig, Ester, som hun sagde, og Sara havde skyndt sig ind med Erik og sprittet hans ansigt og hænder. Tre og fyrre minutter senere ringede hun til mig på hospitalet. Tre og fyrre minutter, Amanda.” Jeg græd også nu. Det var ikke mine tab, men jeg græd for alle og alting.”

“han sido víctimas de violencia sexual mujeres indígenas que ocupan un lugar de autoridad dentro de sus pueblos, así como mujeres líderes que representan un grupo social específico, una fuerza política o que cumplen un papel central en la comunidad (maestras, parteras o promotoras de salud). Ellas son victimizadas porque son voceras de reclamos colectivos o desempeñan un papel central en la reproducción de la vida social y cultural de una comunidad. Por ejemplo, en la masacre de Bahía Portete perpetrada el 19 de abril del 2004, el Bloque Norte de las Autodefensas usó la violencia sexual de manera premeditada y estratégica contra mujeres líderes seleccionadas para devastar física y moralmente a las comunidades, y provocar así su destierro. El informe de GMH refiere que en este caso “los victimarios atacan acudiendo a la tortura sexual y mediante mecanismos como el cercenamiento de extremidades y de órganos asociados a la sexualidad, o la incineración de los cuerpos de los muertos. De esta manera, mediante el ataque violento y el asesinato de mujeres se mancha también su cuerpo como territorio y el territorio se desacraliza”

“Han spotted a child‟s homespun dolly in the ditch, pressed into the mud. He reined in, meaning to climb down and fetch it so he could clean it up for his little sister. Then he remembered that Mari was dead and had no need of dollies anymore. Grief was like that. It gradually faded into a dull ache, until some simple sight or sound or scent hit him like a hammer blow.”

“Hana?" Lena says softly. "Are you okay?" That single stupid question breaks me. All the metal fingers relax me at once, and the tears they've been holding back come surging up at once. Suddenly I am sobbing and telling her everything: about the raid, and the dogs, and the sounds of skulls cracking underneath regulator's nightsticks. Thinking about it again makes me feel like I might puke. At a certain point, Lena puts her arms around me and starts murmuring things into my hair. I don't even know what she's saying, and I don't care. JUst having her here—solid, real, on my side—makes me feel better than I have in weeks. Slowly I manage to stop crying, swallowing back the hiccups and sobs that are still running through me. I try to tell her that I've missed her, and that I've been stupid and wrong, but my voice is muffled and thick”

“Hana starts off down the road. I’m tempted to watch her go. I get the urge to memorize her walk—to imprint her in my brain somehow, just as she is—but as I’m watching her waver in and out of the fierce sunlight, her silhouette gets confused with another one in my head, a shadow weaving in and out of darkness, about to walk off the cliff, and I don’t know who I’m looking at anymore. Suddenly the edges of the world are blurring and there’s a sharp pain in my throat, so I turn around and walk quickly toward the house. “Lena!” she calls out to me, just before I reach the gate. I spin around, heart leaping, thinking maybe she’ll be the one to say it. I miss you. Let’s go back. Even from a distance of fifty feet, I can see Hana hesitating. Then she makes this fluttering gesture with her hand and calls out, “Never mind.” This time when she turns around she doesn’t waver. She walks straight and quickly, turns a corner, and is gone. But what did I expect? That’s the whole point, after all: There’s no going back.”