The street has lost its gentleness, its kindness, its tolerance—and its trees, which knew…

الشارع راح لطفه وطيبته وسماحته، وشجره الذي كان يعرفنا ونعرفه، ويحتوينا بظلاله كلما اقتربنا وترمقنا من علٍ شواشيه، ويطالع كل هلَّة صبح معنا كأنها أول نور له ولنا في الحياة..

The street has lost its gentleness, its kindness, its tolerance—and its trees, which knew us as we knew them, sheltered us in their shade whenever we came near, watched us from above, and greeted every dawn with us as if it were the first light of life for them and for us.

From the novel Menorahs and Minarets · Chapter 6

Words of a narrator or a character belong to the novel's world, not to the author's personal views.

Menorahs and Minarets

نادية التي كنت تعرفها لم تعد.. فابحث لنفسك عن طريق غير الطريق الذي أمضي فيه، فأنا الآن أمّ لم يعد يشغلها إلا ابنتها ريم، وامرأة زوجها في الممات أعز عليها مما كان في الحياة..
The Nadia you knew is no more. Find yourself a road other than the one I walk; I am now a mother with nothing on her mind but her daughter Reem, and a woman whose husband is dearer to her in death than he was in life.

Menorahs and Minarets

أما الدبلة التي أخرجتها من إصبعه يوم أن مات لم أجد مكانًا أحن عليها من إصبعي
As for the ring I slipped from his finger the day he died, I found no place kinder to it than my own finger.

Menorahs and Minarets

كان حزنه حزنهم وكربه كربهم، غير أنه شعر بأنه إذا اختلط وقال فقوله مجروح وأيًا كان ما يبوح به فبوحه قابل للتأويل
Their grief was his grief and their anguish his anguish, yet he felt that if he mingled and spoke, his word would be suspect, and whatever he confided would be open to interpretation.

Menorahs and Minarets