Monthly Archives: November 2009

The Fiction Class – Susan Breen

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“It’s the randomness of life that makes it particularly terrifying.”

“There is something seductive about honesty.”

“You have an answer for everything. All that psychoanalysis has turned you into an wimp. There’s a reason why they call them shrinks, you know. They make people smaller.”

“It was a country that celebrated pain; revered it, you might say. Very Catholic.”

“Fiction writers are supposed to be liars; that is part of the fun of it.”

“Arabella clears her throat. She feels as if she is doing an emotional striptease.”

“Her mother is like a dog when she gets to a new place: She needs to mark her territory immediately by peeing.”

“Pity takes away your humanity, reduces you to a pulsating need…”

“… touched, sad and frightened -all the sensations she normally feels with her mother.”
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Princess: A true story of life behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia – Jean Sasson

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“All women learn at an early age to manipulate rather than to confront.”

“I, for the first time in my young life, comprehended the impenetrable task facing those of our sex. I knew my goal of female equality was hopeless, for I finally recognized that the world of men harbors a morbid condition of over-fondness for themselves. We women are vassals, and the walls of our prisons are inescapable, for this grotesque disease preeminence lives in the sperm for all men and is passed along, generation to generation-a deadly, incurable disease whose host is male and victim is female.”

“… this one issue alone proved that we Saudis were like uninspired mules; we trod the same weary track as the mule before us even if it led us to plunge off a cliff.”

The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran

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And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.