كانت أيام حلوة يا جلال، لا تعرف المسلم من اليهودي من المسيحي، ولا حزازات ولا أنا ملتي إيه وانت ملتك إيه! كل حي في حاله والرب لا رب كوهين لوحده ولا على ولا نصيف، الرب رب الجميع، مش عارف الدنيا اتقل خيرها ليه؟!
They were sweet days, Galal. You couldn't tell the Muslim from the Jew from the Christian; no grudges, no 'what's my creed and what's yours'. Everyone lived his life, and the Lord was not Cohen's alone, nor Ali's, nor Nassif's: the Lord was the Lord of all. I don't know why the world's goodness has run so thin.
From the novel Days in the Diaspora · Chapter 33 · Zaki al-Azra' (grandfather), on a café terrace by boulevard Saint-Michel
Words of a narrator or a character belong to the novel's world, not to the author's personal views.