Nakakapagod Din Quotes

Eyes blinded by the fog of things cannot see truth. Ears deafened by the din of things cannot hear truth. Brains bewildered by the whirl of things cannot think truth. Hearts deadened by the weight of things cannot feel truth. Throats choked by the dust of things cannot speak truth. ~ Harold Bell Wright

Opposite the off-licence on Dockers Road, a car was parked on double-yellow lines. Hidden within the sunlight bouncing from its roof was the source of a frail tapping that defeated the din of the city. Squinting into that diamond of light, I discerned a blue tit crystallising from the glare. The little bird was pecking at its reflection. I wanted to tell it to stop. ~ Edward L. Lanner

Cracking India by Bapsi Sidhwa reveals the upheaval of partition through the eyes of a child, "Lame Lenny," a young Parsi girl crippled from polio. Lenny's world is her beloved and beautiful Hindu ayah and her ayah's many Muslim admirers, the cook Imam Din, and the Untouchable gardener. ~ Nancy Pearl

Dreams? Ah, reality spoils the perfection of all beautiful dreams, so the dream can find a place in real life, you know how? By being dyed by the colour of reality, its pain and its bitterness. In other words, life will squash you so that you give up on your dreams and surrender to your needs.. And the decision is completely yours."
"No, I shan't give up on my dream."
"Then, challenge life! Know the rules, play by rules. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

The boy is young, only twelve standard years, not old enough to fight. Not yet. He looks to his father with pleading eyes. Over the din he yells: "But the battle station was destroyed, Dad! The battle is over!" They just watched it only an hour before. The supposed end of the Empire. The start of something better. The confusion in the boy's shining eyes is clear: He doesn't understand what's happening. But Rorak does. He's heard tales of the Clone Wars - tales spoken by his own father. He knows how war goes. It's not many wars, but just one, drawn out again and again, cut up into slices so it seems more manageable. ~ Chuck Wendig

When first you enter Wisdom's sea, beware-A wave of indecision floods you there. ~ Farid Al-Din Attar

In this valley, Love is represented by fire, Reason by smoke. When Love bursts into flame, Reason is forthwith dissipated like smoke. Reason cannot coexist with Love's mania, for Love has nothing whatever to do with human Reason. If ever you attain a clear vision of the unseen world, then only will you be able to realize the source of Love. By the odour of Love every atom in the world is intoxicated. It owes its existence to the existence of Love. If ~ Farid Al-Din Attar

The beth din is the court of the chief rabbi. I see myself taking an active role within the beth din. ~ Ephraim Mirvis

We are living at a time where there are so many films available to watch through so many formats all the time. It's hard for any film to stand out in that din. ~ Megan Griffiths

...and William said, "O Lord God, we have tried to hear Your voice above the din of other voices. Above the heresy--and even above the orthodoxy. Above the abbots and the masters. Above the knights and even the kings. And though this world is confusing and strange, we believe we have heard Your voice and followed it--followed it here, to this place. Now please, God, hear us. Help us, watch over us, and protect us as we face the flames of hate. Please, God, please. And they all said, "Amen. ~ Adam Gidwitz

Robin Hood. To a Friend.

No! those days are gone away,
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Ofthe leaves of many years:
Many times have winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz'd to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale,
Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the "grene shawe";
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he wou ~ John Keats

Excuses are made by the power of weakness. Their purpose is merely a wish you have; you wish they would demolish your guilt and regret. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

That's kind of you! It means I am not good enough."
"Even "Good" is not a degree you acquire naturally." he replied. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

I have the urge to fly, to celebrate, to dance, to sing! My happiness can't be told or expressed, it can't be described, and it's impossible to confine it. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

Have it your way, then. Pretend you don't hear your own voice inside the din. Pretend its not telling you things you don't want to know. Pretend that your deepest, most secret wish isn't that someone would love you like you know Malick can, if you let him. ~ Carole Cummings

Sean started the engine and putted through the marina waters, and Adam had the nerve to plop onto the seat across the aisle from me. Sean reached the edge of the idle zone and cranked the boat into top speed. Adam called to me so softly I could barely catch his words over the motor, "Close your legs."
"What for? I waxed!" I looked down to make sure. This was okay now, because Sean was facing the other way and couldn't hear me in the din. Indeed, I was clean. I spread my legs even wider, put my arms on the back of the seat, and generally took up as much room as possible, like a boy. I glanced back over at Adam. "Does it make you uncomfortable for me to sit this way?"
He watched me warily. "Yes."
"May I suggest that this is your problem and not mine?"
He licked his lips and bent toward me. "If it keeps Sean from asking you out, it's going to be your problem, and you're going to make it my problem."
"Speaking of which," I said, crossing my legs like a girl. "Thanks for staying out of my way. How the hell am I supposed to get Sean to ask me out when he's all pissy?"
"You wanted me to lose to him at team calisthenics? That was too sweet to miss."
"You didn't have to win by quite so much, Adam. You knew I needed him in a good mood. You didn't have to rub it in."
Adam grinned. "And you wanted me to stop growing?"
"Do not make a joke about your size. If you can't think of anything to talk about except your large size, please say nothing at ~ Jennifer Echols

Our fights, quarrels, and debates blinded me that I forgot how much she means to me. She means the world, the whole world with its varieties and diversities. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

If you want the moon, do not hide from the night.
If you want a rose, do not run from the thorns.
If you want love, do not hide from yourself. ~ Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

The noise of the city is very loud, in recollection it's like the sound track of a film turned up too high, deafening. I remember clearly, the room is dark, we don't speak, it's surrounded by the continuous din of the city, caught up in the city, swept along with it. There are no panes in the windows, just shutters and blinds. On the blinds you can see the shadows of people going by in the sunlight on the sidewalks. Great crowds of them always...

[...] Outside it's the end of the day, you can tell by the sound of the voices, the sound of more and more passers-by, more and more miscellaneous. It's a city of pleasure that reaches its peak at night. And night is beginning now, with the setting sun.

The bed is separated from the city by those slatted shutters, that cotton blind. There's nothing solid separating us from other people. They don't know of our existence. We glimpse something of theirs, the sum of their voices, of their movements, like the intermittent hoot of a siren, mournful, dim. ~ Marguerite Duras

No one can hope that men who have fought in silence for four years and are now fighting all day long in the din of bombs and the crackle of guns will agree to the return of the forces of surrender and injustice under any circumstances. No one can expect that these men will again accept doing what the best and purest did for twenty-five years - that is, loving their country and silently despising her leaders, ~ Albert Camus

If you're not controversial, you'll never break through the din of all the commentary. ~ Roger Stone

So you admit that you have changed!!
I am fond of husbands who possess genuine love for their wives, and it doesn't change but to be sweeter, fiercer in, an unharmful, passionate way, and stronger with pure affection.
Find me one who never changes but for much better versions of himself for a lifetime. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

How to describe hell? Disembowelled landscape busy with suffering, incessant heat, permanent scarlet twilight, a swirling snowfall of ash, the stink of pain and the din of ... if only, hell is two things: the absence of God and the presence of time. Infinite variations on that theme. Doesn't sound so bad, does it? Well, trust me. ~ Glen Duncan

Now is the time of fresh starts
This is the season that makes everything new.
There is a longstanding rumor that Spring is the time
of renewal, but that's only if you ignore the depressing
clutter and din of the season. All that flowering
and budding and birthing--- the messy youthfulness
of Spring actually verges on squalor. Spring is too busy,
too full of itself, too much like a 20-year-old to be the best time for reflection, re-grouping, and starting fresh.
For that you need December. You need to have lived
through the mindless biological imperatives of your life (to bud, and flower, and show off) before you can see that a landscape of new fallen snow is THE REAL YOU.
December has the clarity, the simplicity, and the silence you need for the best FRESH START of your life. ~ Vivian Swift

Sorabji's hair was long and matted, as was his beard. He'd spent six months in a tropical sun, and was now dark brown. His clothes had been disgusting after the first week; following local custom he had taken to wearing his shirt as a loincloth. Sorabji always liked to say that the unfortunate consul had travelled hundreds of miles into the interior to rescue a British citizen, only to find Gunga Din. It was true that the loincloth had come from Gieves & Hawkes, but this was not something you'd notice on a casual inspection. ~ Helen DeWitt

I hate the night, the awful night!
It muzzles the scream of pain, it rolls the spin of woes,
and the waves of the night are sweeping the town serving none
but the ill-fated ones.

The masquerade of time,
what does it conceal in its twists?
Agony and more in that night of bore.

The night, what a night!
A night of endless sighs and cries!

I hate the night, that awful night,
and I see no light, no hope for dawn, no peace in sight,
nothing but to suffer from the turmoil.

The night of pain!
The night of shame!
The untamed night of the wickedest symphonies! ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

I am alone; make me your single goal --
My presence is sufficient for your soul;
I am your God, your one necessity --
With every breath you breathe, remember Me. ~ Farid Al-Din Attar

Miracles do happen. In faith lies the power of spirituality ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

After dinner, as we had so many times during our months and months together, Marlboro Man and I adjourned to his porch. It was dark--we'd eaten late--and despite my silent five-minute battle with the reality of my reproductive system, there was definitely something special about the night. I stood at the railing, breathing in the dewy night air and taking in all the sounds of the countryside that would one day be my home. The pumping of a distant oil well, the symphony of crickets, the occasional moo of a mama cow, the manic yipping of coyotes…the din of country life was as present and reassuring as the cacophony of car horns, traffic sounds, and sirens had been in L.A. I loved everything about it.
He appeared behind me; his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Oh, it was real, all right--he was real. As I touched his forearms and ran the palms of my hands from his elbows down to his wrists, I'd never been more sure of how very real he was. Here, grasping me in his arms, was the Adonis of all the romance-novel fantasies I clearly never realized I'd been having; they'd been playing themselves out in steamy detail under the surface of my consciousness, and I never even knew I'd been missing it. I closed my eyes and rested my head back on his chest, just as his impossibly soft lips and subtle whiskers rested on my neck. Romancewise, it was perfection--the night air was still--almost imperceptible. Physically, viscerally, it was almost more than I could stand. Six babies? Su ~ Ree Drummond

How it hurts to dream, to promise, to think when you have absolutely nothing in hand. When the future is looming only by its ambiguity leaving you distressed, afraid of your destiny.. Where to go and how to know.. That suspense is serving its mystery. Let it be not my misery, I already have that anxiety void of any tranquility. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

To the bankrupt poet, to the jilted lover, to anyone who yearns to elude the doubt within and the din without, the tidal strait between Manhattan Island and her favorite suburb offers the specious illusion of easy death. Melville prepared for the plunge from the breakwater on the South Street promenade, Whitman at the railing of the outbound ferry, both men redeemed by some Darwinian impulse, maybe some epic vision, which enabled them to change leaden water into lyric wine. Hart Crane rejected the limpid estuary for the brackish swirl of the Caribbean Sea. In each generation, from Washington Irving's to Truman Capote's, countless young men of promise and talent have examined the rippling foam between the nation's literary furnace and her literary playground, questioning whether the reams of manuscript in their Brooklyn lofts will earn them garlands in Manhattan's salons and ballrooms, wavering between the workroom and the water. And the city had done everything in its power to assist these men, to ease their affliction and to steer them toward the most judicious of decisions. It has built them a bridge. ~ Jacob M. Appel

Sometimes I wonder about depression, is it the fear of life or the fear of death?"

"Depression is the fear of senses and thoughts, only the prolonged passion can beat it, be it.. passion for life, life after death, or anything else which is something.. in particular!"

"But depression is not a fear, it gives you courage to end your life or to live hopelessly."

"Ending one's life is the easiest way to end a battle. Going with the flow is not an achievement, though. But leading a life with all of its fortunes, aspirations, ambitions, defeats, losses, and misfortunes is the real courage.. Only because you are eligible to live, you are granted the grace of life… You have it, you can manage it; that's the secret people refuse to believe. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din

The wind of change is clashing with the wind of the past.. The past.. ~ Noha Alaa El-Din