Nema Al-Araby

I'd rather be poor to my bones than be rich with your money, that is like a trigger, ready to be pulled in my face.

I'm an alien in my own world, a writer without words, a musician without a piano, a magician without a wand. I am fooled by infinite words that rush in my blood, yet imprisoned by the very thoughts of silence. I'm a gray green fallow leaf on trees and abandoned on the streets, a never-ending spring season and an eternal autumn. I'm the golden of the sun and the silver of the moon, the fog of dawn and the amber of dusk. I'm the white and the red flag , the obedient and the rebel. I am the coward in the brave, and the child in the man. I am, but a writer.

A deeper thought on the surface is exactly the paradox we need.

Silence is a great companion when words are devoid of meanings.

It's ridiculous to think that taking out words will heal hearts,because a palm-sized box is just not enough for the anger of this world.

Don't let yourself be amazed by the imagination of a writer and his words, writers are almost all the time in a love-hate relationship with words.

You have to have a plot too, you know? Because without it, your life is less of a story and more of an empty paper.

Is it crazy to say that I sometimes don't understand what I write but I write it anyway, because maybe someone, somewhere, somehow, would feel what I didn't?

If you observe the pace of my breaths, you won't need to listen to my words.

The possibility of truth has become a delusion to those who made their own disguise the truth.

Make sure you don't carry the burden of the whole world on your shoulders, just in case someone needed them to cry.

Questions that will free you might have answers that will imprison you again.

Write when you least feel like it,Because that's when you write best.

Ever, could I or could I not count the shadows of our being?

Ever, could I or could I not count the shadows of your being?

And the cobwebs of timewould surrender,dormant, so that the rainbowsof new eras can emergeDespite the hollownessof you.

Please don't question the insane glaresJust give me today,And tomorrow,Tomorrowwe will matter.

Mostly, we talk to impress. And sometimes we shut up to impress, too.