Rabiya Zafar

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“We tell our stories differently, don’t we, you and I?”— Paula Hawkins
05/05/2026

“We tell our stories differently, don’t we, you and I?”

— Paula Hawkins

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a ...
28/04/2026

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.”

— Hermann Hesse

“There is a peace at the end of it all. A difficult and bitter peace, sometimes, but a peace.”— Albert Camus, to Maria C...
05/04/2026

“There is a peace at the end of it all. A difficult and bitter peace, sometimes, but a peace.”

— Albert Camus, to Maria Casarès, Correspondence, February 23, 1950

“I am a prisoner of a fairy-tale.My own softness chokes me.”— Anna de Noailles, tr. by Jethro Bithell, from “In the Gard...
03/04/2026

“I am a prisoner of a fairy-tale.
My own softness chokes me.”

— Anna de Noailles, tr. by Jethro Bithell, from “In the Garden”

[ She feels trapped in her own idealism and sensitivity. Her gentle, dreamy nature... once comforting... has become suffocating, making her vulnerable and unable to face reality. ]

“Can you imagine a silence so desperate to be heard?”— Richard Jackson, Silences
02/04/2026

“Can you imagine a silence so desperate to be heard?”

— Richard Jackson, Silences

“And the world has become merely an unknown landscape where my heart can lean on nothing.”— Albert Camus, from Notebooks...
19/03/2026

“And the world has become merely an unknown landscape where my heart can lean on nothing.”

— Albert Camus, from Notebooks 1935–1942 (Paragon House Publishers, 1991)

“You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.”— Thích Nhất Hạnh
16/03/2026

“You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.”

— Thích Nhất Hạnh

“And memory, for all its warmth, is merely the things we forgot to forget.”— Charles Wright, from “Dude” in Caribou: Poe...
15/03/2026

“And memory, for all its warmth, is merely the things we forgot to forget.”

— Charles Wright, from “Dude” in Caribou: Poems

[ Some people or moments leave our lives, but they do not leave our minds. Even when we try to move on, parts of them stay with us, and those leftover feelings become memories ]

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