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Arabic Literature Quotes

Browse 61 quotes about Arabic Literature.

Arabic Literature Quotes

“[Silent Messages] I’ve lost track of all the times I have passed by married couples or lovers Dinning at fancy upscale restaurants in foreign cities When the woman sitting across the table from her lover Gives me that quick look Conveying in a painful silence That she no longer loves him, That she wishes she were elsewhere… And each time, I respond with an equally silent look: Why are you there? Why don’t you turn this dinner table of triviality on him, And on everything that happened and is happening And just walk away? [Original poem published in Arabic on November 8, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

LoveRelationshipsCourageWomen EmpowermentBreaking UpLife ChoicesArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureDysfunctional Relationships
Author:Louis Yako
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“Beware of Strangers As children, they teach us To beware of strangers, To refrain from approaching them. As we grow older we learn That no one is stranger than those We thought we’d known all our lives. As we grow older we learn That a stranger may carry more empathy, And may understand us more deeply. Even feelings of affection from a stranger May be more sincere. And so I ask: can humanity and the strangeness be synonymous? Could we say: I am a stranger; therefore I am? Can we truly feel alive Without strange things Strange encounters without strangers reminding us that our hearts and minds are still beating? They teach us to avoid strangers, And life teaches us that human awareness can only be borne out Of the dagger of strangeness… That life is tasteless When we don’t mix it with strangers… That familiarity is opposed to life! And thus, I loudly declare: A stranger I was born. A stranger I wish to remain! And I ask that you issue my death certificate The day I become familiar. [Original poem published in Arabic on October 29 at ahewar.org]”

IdentityAdventureExperienceFamiliarityHuman ExistenceStrangersWeirdnessStrangenessArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“[Donor Countries] When are we going to understand That donor countries never donate anything for free. When are we going to understand That the only countries that donate Are those with the biggest role in destruction and ravage? That such countries only donate To shape societies and destroyed countries According to their whims and their desires… That their only aim is To keep the defeated the marginalized the disempowered and the impoverished In that state for as long as they can… When are we going to understand That the easiest way to identify and name the big criminals, Is to take a quick look at the list of donor countries? [Original poem published in Arabic on November 12, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

WarPovertyDevelopmentExploitationThird WorldReconstructionDecolonizationArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureDecoloniality
Author:Louis Yako
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“Botox" In a friendly exchange with a shopper in a grocery story line, she joyfully declared: “Today is my 50th birthday!” I said, “It looks like the hands of Time have touched your face gently. Happy birthday!” “The hands of Time weren’t gentle on me, my dear. What you see are the wonders of botox,” she said. “They say it freezes face features and expressions. Is that true?” I inquired half-jokingly. “At this stage of my life, it makes no difference. I no longer need any expressions. There is nothing worth smiling for or frowning upon. I spent decades expressing in every physical and verbal way possible, all in vain,” she said. Her words were followed by a hopeless giggle that reminded me of the philosopher who wrote that as we advance in age, our fears are replaced with giggles. She then continued, “There is a time when you discover that all verbal and physical expressions are futile. In everyone’s life, there’s one defining event that freezes everything in their lives. Anything that happens after that event is no more than desperate and hopeless attempts to pretend that we are okay.” Before I managed to find the appropriate words, the cashier called on her. The timing was ideal as words froze on my tongue just like the botox freezes features and expression in a world in which words and expressions are of no use anymore. [Original text published in Arabic on October 14, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

WomenBeautyAgingVanityPlastic SurgerySuperficialityBotoxArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“Are You Afraid of Sadness?” In an old interview with a famous and talented Iraqi actress, the interviewer asked, 'Why are you afraid of sadness?' The actress responded, 'I am afraid of it because it quickly takes you to a place from which you can never return.' And exactly as she answered, insightful viewers could feel the sadness on her face, indicating that the actress herself wasn’t truly present in the interview— sadness had long since taken her, with no return. November 19, 2023”

LossGriefSadnessSorrowDepressionArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“Shocks and Joys" The biggest shocks in life were: That freedom is a lie Choosing chains carefully is more important than chasing illusions… That family and relatives are but a hit or miss biological coincidence… That life isn’t short as they claim for those who understand the game… That there is no friend in need, but indeed, need is the only constant friend… The biggest joys in life were: The smell of a freshly baked loaf of bread A sip of water The depth of a word The taste of a fresh fig The silence and tunes of nature The unexpected scent of a rose that tickles the nose after having fallen in the abyss of despair… [Original poem published in Arabic on March 9, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

WisdomJoyLife LessonsUnderstandingAwarenessShockArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureThe Art Of Living
Author:Louis Yako
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“Fate’s Smile" That line from an old Turkish song is still ringing my ears… A song they used to play on the radio in my teenage years on hot and boring summer days… The song had melancholy tunes, recoded with basic technology… The singer repeated in a hesitant and defeated voice: Bize de bir gün kader güler, güler inşallah… [The fate will one day smile at us, too. One day it will smile, Inshallah…] [Original poem published in Arabic on August 12, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

DestinyFateSorrowFortuneMelancholyWishful ThinkingArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureFleeting LifeThe Wheel Of Fortune
Author:Louis Yako
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“[Long Life] This famous writer has died at 92 And that legend journalist, The darling of authorities and mainstream media, Has died at 95. This pious religious man Has died at 96, And that billionaire, Known for his countless charities and charitable deeds Has died at 96 also… The veteran and shrewd politician, The former president of that country, Has died at 95 as well… And the same questions that dawned on me Ever since I understood the oppression & filthiness Of what the elites, authorities, and those in power are capable of, Begin ringing in my ears once again: Can anyone aware of the ugliness of what is going on live a long life? Is it a coincidence that most people, writers, and artists Who enriched my awareness and world died prematurely Or died, literally or metaphorically, by suicide, assassination, or in prison? Can a shred of awareness fell upon us without defeating the body and the soul Cell by cell and one organ after another causing a premature death? I also wonder have the writers, journalists, religious men, and politicians Who lived long lives enriched truth and justness, Or have they gotten rich at the expense of the above to live long lives up to 92, 93, 94, 95, & 96? And by biggest questions of all: Is there somewhere, in some world, in some place, a dagger of awareness that stabs without the killing the stabbed prematurely? [Original poem published in Arabic on December 31, 2022, at ahewar.org]”

HumanityPowerAwarenessLongevityQuality Of LifeCaring For OthersComplicityArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureLifespan
Author:Louis Yako
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“[Imprisoned Poem] Somewhere deep inside me There lies an imprisoned poem A poem that is Buried Chained And holding its breath Ages ago… A poem about futility The fragility of words About alarms, if sounded, They’d be either destined to silence Or get written on the walls of indifference… There is an ancient poem Imprisoned in my soul Waiting to be released impatiently, In due time… Like a house cat this imprisoned poem keeps eagerly watching Every move outside the window, Without any participation… And like a house cat, Whenever this imprisoned poem Gets exhausted by the triviality of reality, It sleeps for long hours Only to wake up and find The status quo unchanged And the strings moving the puppets uncut… It then looks out the window in sorrow And goes back to sleep once again To dream of a less ugly world… My imprisoned poem has vowed not to release itself From the deepest points in my soul Until everyone else is awake For its release to be meaningful… (November 17, 2014)”

HumanityPrisonUnityFutilityArabic PoetryCollective ConsciousnessArabic LiteratureCollective ActionThe Power Of Words
Book:أنا زهرة برية [I am a Wildflower]
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“They say the world will end soon. They say that the nuclear weapons made, Due to fearing ‘the other’, Have become a curse, a plague, a scourge On those who made them Even more than those they were made to scare... And I wonder: Will the nuclear weapons be the cause of the world’s end? Or will the world’s end be caused by humanity’s fear, complicity, and submission? And if what they say is true, Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to drink one last cup of cardamom-flavored tea Taste one last fig, peach, or apricot, Smell a quince, Dip one last piece of bread In Palestinian thyme and olive oil… Before the world ends, I wish to smell a few pine needles, To breathe the smell of the first rain shower After a long, hot, and dry summer… Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to read one more book Out of the thousands of books that I still want to read… Before the world ends and before I die, I ask for one more spring To smell bunches of Iraqi narcissus flowers. I want to live one more autumn, To enjoy the magical colors Of the dying leaves on the trees As they challenge death with beauty Right before falling on the grounds of indifference… But my biggest wish before I die is For my death not to be the end of the world… [Original poem published in Arabic by ahewar.org on October 13, 2022]”

WarEarthHumanityEnvironmentNuclear WeaponsEnd Of The WorldArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“The Meaning of 'Home' As I travel from one city to another From one country to another From one sorrow to another, I encounter thousands of faces: In streets, shops, parks, and cafés. They all ask me the same painful question: 'Where are you from?' As if they know, I am from a place that lost itself and lost me On a long, cold, and sad winter night. They ask me: 'What is your country known for?' I tell them: 'My country is known for exporting sad stories, refugees, and displaced people. All those who were cursed by being born in it.' Similar questions continue to be asked in cocktail parties, In hypocritical and mediocre gatherings, In conferences and boring meetings. Some pretentiously ask me: 'How do you define "home"?' I respond with Ghassan Knafani’s words ringing in my ears: 'Home is for all of this not to happen.' April 19, 2014”

InspirationalHomeWisdomPoetryCreativityExileAlienationArabic Literature
Book:أنا زهرة برية [I am a Wildflower]
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“Departure" Everyone wants to leave— those here long to be there, and many there ache to return here… There are some who’ve grasped that living is impossible neither here nor there— so they search, in vain, for alternatives. Few have come to understand that this impossibility of living stems not from geography, but from complicity. Most who stay or go never part ways with their surrender and quiet compliance— and so they recreate, everywhere they settle, the same conditions and reasons for departure. Few have realized that all places will remain unlivable as long as the urge to leave is born from a complicit, defeated self…”

ChangeSurrenderDenialEscapeDepartureComplianceComplicityArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“Fashionable Beard” I asked my friend, sporting a fashionable beard, with playful curiosity: ‘Has your beard brought you new fans?’ ‘You have no idea how much it has!’ he laughed, eyes gleaming with irony. ‘Do you wonder why people can’t see you clearly without it?’ I probed. He smiled and said, ‘This beard reminds me daily— people refuse to face the bare truth. They only look at things when they’re dressed up in something— a mask, a trend, a distraction. But never just as they are.”

MenLooksGenderAttractionMasculinityGender RolesSuperficialityAppearancesArabic LiteratureBeards
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“[Fashionable Beard] I asked a friend growing a fashionable beard playfully: “Has your beard increased your fans?” “You have no idea how much it has!” He responded. “Do you wonder why people can’t see you clearly without it?” I asked. “This beard reminds me every day that people simply refuse to see things as they are – bare and naked. They will notice and see things covered with any cover, except not as they are!” he added with a laughter. [Original poem published in Arabic on January 16, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

MenFashionMasculinityToxic RelationshipsToxic MasculinityMale PrivilegeArabic LiteratureMale BeautyDysfunctional Relationship
Author:Louis Yako
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“(Twins in the Wound) It took me years to understand that we didn’t love each other because we were conventionally compatible or in perfect harmony, but because we were broken and shattered in the same exact places… We are twins in the wound, abandoned and banished by our families when they discovered we refused to play by the rules of the overwhelming—and overwhelmed—majority… And so, my love, I hid you from everyone, not out of shame, but out of dread of the tyranny and ignorance of the rabble… From your hidden love I learned that only love which quietly masters the art of hiding from watchful eyes and hypocrites survives in the end… May 15, 2024”

LoveTrue LoveWoundsCompanionshipForbidden LoveArabic PoetryCompatibilityArabic Literature
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“(Beware of Strangers) As children, we are taught to beware of strangers, to refrain from approaching them. As we grow older, we learn that no one is stranger than those we thought we’d known all our lives. We learn that a stranger may carry more empathy, and understand us more deeply, and that affections from a stranger may be more sincere. So, I ask: Can humanity and strangeness be synonymous? Could we say, 'I am a stranger; therefore I am'? Can we truly feel alive without strange things, strange encounters, without strangers reminding us that our hearts and minds are still beating? They teach us to avoid strangers, yet life teaches us that human awareness can only be born of the dagger of strangeness… that life is tasteless without mingling with strangers… that familiarity is opposed to life! Thus, I loudly declare: A stranger I was born; a stranger I wish to remain! And I ask that you issue my death certificate the day I become familiar. October 29, 2022”

WisdomGrowthTravelConnectionFamiliarityExclusionStrangersArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureThe Meaning Of Life
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“ومع مرور الأيام، أحببتُ ما كنتُ أكره، وألفتُ ما كنتُ أبغض، وتخليتُ عمّا كنتُ أعشق، حتى بتُّ أسأل من أكون؟ As the days passed, I grew fond of what I once despised, found comfort in what once unsettled me, and let go of what once defined my soul — until I was left wondering who I had become.”

LonelyQuotes About LifeArabic PoetryArabicArabic LiteratureشعرArabic Quotesأدباقتباساتاقتباس
Author:Khaled Ibrahim
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“A Sweet Woman from a War-Torn Country” In her exile, they often describe her as that ‘sweet woman from a war-torn country.’ They don’t know she loved smelling roses, picking spring wildflowers, and bringing them home after long walks. They don’t know about the first kiss her lover stole during a church power outage on that Easter evening— before the generators came on. They don’t know the long hours she spent under the ancient walnut tree in her village, waiting for her grandfather’s call to share freshly baked pita with ghee and honey. They don’t know about her grandmother’s mixed grains, prepared each year before Easter fasting began. In exile, they try to be kind, telling her she now lives in a ‘safe haven.’ They assume her silence comes from poor language skills or simple agreement with them. They don’t know life’s shocks have silenced her forever. Now she presses her ear against the cold window glass of her apartment, listening to the wind’s mournful cry outside. They remind her she’s among people who honor all values, beliefs, religions, and ethnicities— but she has learned it’s all too late. She no longer needs assurances. Occasionally, all she asks for is a sincere hand on her shoulder or around her neck, to remind her that nothing lasts, that this too shall pass. [Published on April 7, 2023 on CounterPunch.org]”

WarLossSorrowLongingExileAlienationRefugeesArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“Lights" Lights of churches, monasteries, Christmas trees, and magnificent mosques The dim lights inside warm houses in all the foreign cities where I wandered alone The far away lights of cars driving over bridges I watched from the windows of boring hotels on clear moonlit nights Candle lights and lanterns Lights of little shops in ancient and forgotten alleys Lights of ships sailing to places I will never get to see The lamp post lights on dark rainy winter nights The remote lighthouses and lights of unknown fishermen The glittering lights I have seen in the eyes of kind strangers in cities tourists never go to All these lights I once loved that break me now as they remind me of the magical light that was extinguished in your eyes … [Original poem published in Arabic on November 13, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

LoveLife LessonsLossSorrowBelovedBroken HeartCompanionshipArabic PoetryLightsArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“They Say the World Will End Soon" They say the nuclear weapons—born of fear of the other— have become a curse, a plague, a scourge upon those who built them, even more than those they were meant to threaten… And I wonder: Will nuclear weapons bring about the end of the world? Or will it be humanity’s fear, complicity, and quiet submission? If what they say is true, before the world ends—and before I die— I wish to drink one last cup of cardamom-flavored tea, to taste one final fig, peach, or apricot, to inhale the scent of a quince, to dip one last piece of bread into Palestinian thyme and olive oil… Before the world ends, I want to smell pine needles, and breathe the scent of the season’s first rain after a long, dry summer. Before the world ends—and before I die— I long to read one more book from the thousands still waiting for me. I ask for one more spring to inhale bunches of Iraqi narcissus. And one more autumn to marvel at the dying leaves— defying death with beauty just before falling upon the indifferent ground. But most of all, my final wish before I die is that my death not be the end of the world…”

Life LessonsHumanityHopeFearCourageRebellionComplicityArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureThe End Of The World
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“Sorrow in the Heart of an Apple” I tidied my old sorrow, wrapped it gently in scented cloth, and buried it beneath the apple tree in our village orchard. Seasons rolled by... And I believed it was finished, forgotten, even the burial site lost to memory. Then came harvest. I plucked a red apple— shiny, luscious, radiant with promise. But with the first bite, I tasted it. That same sorrow, aged but unmistakable. It had not only survived— it had multiplied. Now here I am, face to face again, finding it in the heart of every apple.”

LifeLife LessonsLossGriefMemoryTraumaForgettingArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureThe Human Condition
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“Departure" Everyone wants to leave Those here want to go there, and many there are eager to return here… There are those who understood that living is not possible neither here nor there, so, you see them, in vain, searching for alternatives… Few have understood that the impossibility of living is a result of complicity not geography, that most of those who stay or depart never part ways with their complicity and tendency to surrender, thus, they recreate the circumstances and the causes of departure everywhere they go… Few have understood that all places will remain unlivable so long as the causes to depart are a result of a complicit and defeated Self… [Original poem published in Arabic on June 20, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

LeavingSeparationSurrenderDenialEscapeDepartureComplicityArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureThe Art Of Life
Author:Louis Yako
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“آه يا طائر الطفولة النائح قل لي لِمَّ كل هذا النواح؟ قل لي لِمَ كل هذا العويل؟ آه يا طائري الذي صاحبني منذ الطفولة لِمَ طبعت نواحك وألصقت عويلك وآهاتك في كل ضحكاتي في كل ابتساماتي في ملامحي في نبراتي؟ آه يا رفيق الطفولة لقد بات الجميع يتجنبني بسببك لئلا أذكرهم بعويلهم الذي دفنوه وصرخاتهم التي أخرسوها ليتمكنوا من مواصلة العيش ...”

LifePoetryCreativityChildhoodMeaning Of LifeSymbolismArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“[Silent Messages 2] She sat to rearrange the contents of her disorganized handbag At the crowded bus terminal When she lifted her head for a short interval, Her eyes caught a young couple kissing, touching, and hugging In a performative and exaggerated manner... When the couple noticed her, The young woman gave her a mean and malicious look as if asking: Are you jealous of all the love I am surrounded by? She returned the look with a sly one as if responding: The love that exaggerates in displaying itself in public Is either immature, dead, or dying… [Original poem published in Arabic on December 5, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

LoveImmaturityArabic PoetryArabic LiteraturePerformativityLack Of WisdomPublic Display Of Affection
Author:Louis Yako
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“[Silent Messages 2] She was rearranging her messy handbag at the crowded bus station When she lifted her head for a short interval, Her eyes caught a young couple kissing, touching, and hugging In an exaggerated and performative manner When the couple noticed her, The young woman gave her a mean and malicious look as if asking: Are you jealous of all the love I am surrounded by? She returned the look with a sly one as if responding: The love that exaggerates in displaying itself in public Is either new and inexperienced, dead, or dying… [[Original poem published in Arabic on December 5, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

LoveExperienceJealousyMaliceArabic PoetryArabic LiteraturePerformativityPublic Display Of AffectionThe Art Of Loving
Author:Louis Yako
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“Barbie” Through my many long travels I’ve seen women reading books on planes, buses, and trains… Over the years, three titles caught my eye, each in the hands of women who looked—or tried to look—like the Barbie doll. I don’t recall the exact names, but one was along the lines of ‘How to Keep Your Husband’ or ‘How to Preserve Your Marriage.’ The second warned of ‘Signs He’s Cheating on You,’ and the third promised how to get rid of him—and move on. It felt as if these three titles mapped out the lifecycle of every woman who lets herself play Barbie. And I often wonder: wouldn’t reading ‘How to Stop Playing the Barbie Role in Love and Life’ be enough to solve all the problems those books claim to fix? [Original poem published”

LoveRelationshipsMarriageFeminismGenderWomen EmpowermentSuperficialityArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“Silent Messages – 2” She sat at the crowded bus terminal, rearranging the contents of her disorganized handbag. When she lifted her head for a moment, her eyes fell on a young couple kissing, touching, and hugging in a performative, exaggerated manner. As they noticed her, the young woman cast a mean, malicious look— as if to ask, ‘Are you jealous of all the love that surrounds me?’ She returned the glance with a sly one, as if replying, ‘Love that must parade itself in public is either immature, dead, or dying…”

LoveWisdomRomanceRelationshipsMarriageFeminismTrue LoveGenderArabic PoetryArabic Literature
Book:سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
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“(Sorrow in the Heart of an Apple) I clean up my old sorrow Wrapped it in a clean and scented piece of cloth Buried it under an apple tree in our apple orchard in the village. Seasons passed… It seemed to me that everything was over When the harvest season came again. I forgot that I had wanted to forget about my sorrow I forgot where I had buried it, too. I picked an attractive red apple That looked glorious and delicious. From the first bite, I immediately recognized The taste of that same age-old sorrow. I realized then that my buried sorrow Had multiplied. And here I am Face to face with it again: Here I am finding it In the heart of every single apple!”

InspirationalWisdomPoetryLiteratureArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureWorld Literature
Author:Louis Yako
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“Like a scared child singing to himself in the dark, most people sooth themselves With the worn-out phrase: 'Life goes on…' without being able to remember anymore Why should it go on? Few are those who dare to ask: How could life go on under such lifeless conditions?”

InspirationalLife LessonsPoetryMeaning Of LifeStatus QuoCritical ThinkingArabic PoetryArabic LiteratureWisodm
Book:أنا زهرة برية [I am a Wildflower]
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“الوزير: ماذا یحس مولاي، حین ینزلق هذا الرداء المهیب عن كتفیه؟ الملك: قلیل من الخفة. الوزیر : وال شيء آخر ! الملك : أي سؤال ! طبعا لا شيء . الوزیر : (وهو یخلع رداءه بدوره) أما انا فدعني أعترف حین أخلع ردائي أشعر نوعا من الرخاوة تدب في بدني .قد تهزأ مني، ولكن هذه هي الحقیقة .تخور ساقاي ، أو تصبح الأرض أقل صلابة.”

Arabic LiteraturePlaysTheatre PlaysArabic Quotes
Book:الملك هو الملك
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