Rabih Alameddine

An Unnecessary Woman

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Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit18 dagen geleden
Ecstasy and intimacy are ineffable as well, ephemeral and fleeting. Ahmad and I didn’t repeat our interlude, never resumed the exploration. He won what he wanted, as did I.

Yeats once said, “The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.”

We lie down with hope and wake up with lies.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit18 dagen geleden
During the war in Beirut, the powerful had power, but only those with true power had water.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit18 dagen geleden
How can one describe the ephemeral qualities of sex beyond the probing, poking, and panting? How can one use inadequate words to describe the ineffable, the beyond words? Those salacious Arabs and their Western counterparts were able to explain the technical aspects, which is helpful, of course, and delightful. Some touched on the spiritual, on the psychological, and metaphor was loved by all. However, to believe that words can in any way mirror or, alas, explain the infinite mystery of sex is akin to believing that reading dark notes on paper can illuminate a Bach partita, or that by studying composition or color one can understand a late Rembrandt self-portrait. Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one’s walls, even if for only a moment, a moment before one immures oneself again.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit18 dagen geleden
There is none more conformist than one who flaunts his individuality.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit18 dagen geleden
“They only wish to harass respectable ladies,” he said.

“Are you sure respectable ladies don’t wish to be harassed?” she said. “I don’t know about Aaliya here, but maybe I want to talk to a handsome young man, just a few words here and there.”

He looked up at both of us and smiled for the first time that day, his glasses sliding a little along his nose as he did so.

“If you talk to one,” he said, “you wouldn’t be able to get rid of him. He would never leave.”
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
In one of his essays, Marías suggests that his work deals as much with what didn’t happen as with what happened. In other words, most of us believe we are who we are because of the decisions we’ve made, because of events that shaped us, because of the choices of those around us. We rarely consider that we’re also formed by the decisions we didn’t make, by events that could have happened but didn’t, or by our lack of choices, for that matter.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
From Pessoa: “Ah, it’s my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me.”
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
Of course, like Descartes, Newton, Locke, Pascal, Spinoza, Kierkegaard, Leibniz, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Wittgenstein, Kant never formed an intimate tie or reared a family.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
Among the many definitions of progress, “enemy of trees” and “killer of birds” seem to me the most apt.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
In The Science of Right, Kant wrote, “Marriage is the union of two persons of different sexes for the purpose of lifelong mutual possession of each other’s sexual organs.”
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
She couldn’t conceive of a world in which my husband didn’t hold all the cards. In her world, husbands were omnipotent, never impotent.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
How could I hear anything when I was either in excruciating pain or fearing that I might soon be?
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
But then, I have no need for a phone, let alone a smart one; no one calls me.

Please, no pity or insincere compassion. I’m not suggesting that I feel sorry for myself because no one calls me or, worse, that you should feel sorry. No one calls me. That’s a fact.

I am alone.

It is a choice I’ve made, yet it is also a choice made with few other options available.
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
“A man does not practice medicine for more than thirty years without some falsehood.”
Soliloquios Literarios
Soliloquios Literariosciteerde uit25 dagen geleden
Books in and of themselves are rarely boring, except for memoirs of American presidents (No, No, Nixon)—well, memoirs of Americans in general. It’s the “I live in the richest country in the world yet pity me because I grew up with flat feet and a malodorous vagina but I triumph in the end” syndrome. Tfeh!
Anet Acogido
Anet Acogidociteerde uit8 maanden geleden
Marianne Moore, from the essay
“If I Were Sixteen Today
Cristina Salazar
Cristina Salazarciteerde uitvorig jaar
The cure for loneliness is solitude.
Müge Arıbilginç
Müge Arıbilginçciteerde uitvorig jaar
Compared to the Middle East, William Burroughs’s world or Gabriel García Márquez’s Macondo is more predictable. Dickens’s Londoners are more trustworthy than the Lebanese. Beirut and its denizens are famously and infamously unpredictable. Every day is an adventure. This unsteadiness makes us feel a shudder of excitement, of danger, as well as a deadweight of frustration. The spine tingles momentarily and the heart sinks.
Müge Arıbilginç
Müge Arıbilginçciteerde uitvorig jaar
I can relate to Marguerite Duras even though I’m not French, nor have I been consumed by love for an East Asian man. I can live inside Alice Munro’s skin. But I can’t relate to my own mother.
Müge Arıbilginç
Müge Arıbilginçciteerde uitvorig jaar
From my village I see as much of the universe as you can see from earth,

So my village is as big as any other land

For I am the size of what I see,

Not the size of my height.
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