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When you see a person who has been given more than you in money and beauty, then look to those who have been given less. ↗
The Austrian writer Robert Musil summed up the Fanatic's great rhetorical advantage in just ten words: There is no truth which stupidity can't make use of. Another Austrian, novelist Heimito von Doderer, put this way: Even the most impossible persons who do the most unforgivable things possess substantial reality; from their points of view they are always right – for let them only doubt that and they are no longer such impossible persons. And we must pay close heed to those who play such ungrateful roles, for these roles are indispensable. It is no small thing to be a monster or a spiteful idiot, and in the first case to think oneself beautiful, in the second a highly intelligent person. Such characters must be represented. Some one has to do it. ↗
For every(spiritual)community there is an object of discord,tension and diorder(fitnah),and for my community,this object is money ↗
Even in the midst of flowing time, I feel languid, look, spinning around and around. I can't even see the heart that's leaving me, yes, I don't know I can't even get myself to move, I continue to be washed down the cracks of time. I don't know anything about what's around me, I'm just me and no more. Am I dreaming? Am I seeing nothing? My words are useless even if I speak. I'm just tired of being sad, I should go on without feeling anything. Even if I'm given the words I'm at a loss for, my heart just won't pay attention. If I move myself away, if I change everything, I’ll turn it black. Is there a future for someone like me? Do I exist in a world like this? Is this painful now? Is it sad now? Not even knowing myself. I'm just tired even of walking, I don't even understand people. If someone like me can change, if I can change, will I turn white? Even in the midst of flowing time, I feel languid, look, spinning around and around. I can't even see the heart that's leaving me, yes, I don't knowI can't even get myself to move, I continue to be washed down the cracks of time. I don't know anything about what's around me, I'm just me and no more. Am I dreaming? Or seeing nothing? My words are useless even if I speak. I'm just tired of being sad, I should go on without feeling anything. Even if you give me the words I'm at a loss for, my heart just won't pay attention. If I can move, if I change everything, I’ll turn it black. Does a future exist in wasted time? Do I exist in a place like this? If I want to talk about me, if I make myself heard, I'll say I'm "Bad Apple" Do I exist at a place like this? Do I exist at a time like this? If someone like me can change, if I can change, will I turn white? Am I dreaming now? Am seeing nothing? My words are useless even if I speak. I'm just tired of being sad, I should go on without feeling anything. Even if you give me the words I'm at a loss for, my heart just won't pay attention. If I can move, if I change everything, I’ll turn it black. If I move, if I move, I’ll destroy everything, I’ll destroy everything. If I grieve, if I grieve, can my heart turn white? I still don’t know about you, about myself, about everything. If I open my heavy eyelids, if I break everything, then turn black! ↗
Olivia watched him through a blur of tears, despising the futility of it. For there was nothing she could say to comfort a man whose family was long dead; there was no balm to heal wounds that scored a man's soul; and there was no way to make a man believe in the ties that bind. ↗
