Sharif Quotes

Why, when people are leaving their partners because they're having an affair with someone else, do they think it will seem better to pretend there is no one else involved? Do they think it will be less hurtful for their partners to think they just walked out because they couldn't stand them any more and then had the good fortune to meet some tall Omar Sharif-figure with a gentleman's handbag two weeks afterwards while the ex-partner is spending his evenings bursting into tears at the sight of the toothbrush mug? It's like those people who invent a lie as an excuse rather than the truth, even when the truth is better than the lie.

My scars teach me that I am stronger than what caused them.

The rain begins with a single drop

Do not be a people without a will of your own saying: If others treat well you will also treat well and if they do wrong we will do wrong; but accustom yourselves to do good if people do good and do not do wrong if they do evil.

Freedom is to live with dignity

I don't know what sex appeal is. I don't think you can have sex appeal knowingly. The people who seduce me personally are the people who seem not to know they're seductive, and not to know they have sex appeal.

My face is my identity. No one will cover it. I’m proud of my face. If my face bothers you, don’t look. Turn your own face away, take your eyes off me. If you are seduced by merely looking at my face, that is your problem. Do not tell me to cover it. You cannot punish me simply because you cannot control yourself.

Mornings are like almost clean slates. I say almost clean because the residue of yesterdays is sometimes stuck on them.

I'm very wary about giving advice. I think it's very dangerous to give advice to people, except if you know them very well.

It matters what you call a thing.

O God as Thou hast made my form beautiful so make my character beautiful.

To be alive, Professor Sharif, means not being completely consistent. It means venturing out in many directions all at the same time,

I never fell in love with another woman. I cannot have a relationship with a woman if I'm not in love...I'm a very particular person, I'm not very much interested in short adventures with women or girls. I have to fall in love with someone in order to have a realtionship with her.

This is what happens when the state intervenes in a person’s private life; it creates two separate personas. It compels you either to lead two separate lives, or to violate what’s imposed on you when the state isn’t looking.

Because my mother couldn't change my present, I decided to change my daughter's future

Writing is the high alchemy of the soul that combines words and ideas to create magic.

How beautiful it is to live in a world with no walls.

We were like captive animals that had lost the will to fight. We even went so far as to defend the very constraints that they had imposed upon us.

his eyes SENSITIVE when he passes advice to me, like I’m his SEQUEL, like we’re all a SERIAL caught on Iranian satellite TV. When you tell someone of, he calls it SERVICING. When I stand on his feet, I call it SHADOWING.

On May 9, 1916, the British and French entered into a clandestine treaty on how they intended to carve up the region. The treaty was the Sykes-Picot, named for the negotiators. Always described as infamous, the treaty ignored both Jewish aspirations and Sharif Husain’s personal ambitions. And so Palestine became the ‘twice promised land.

Don’t be afraid. Fear won’t prevent death, it prevents life.” —NAGUIB MAHFOUZ

I was lonely, desperate, and angry. At that moment, I truly understood what it meant to be a Saudi woman. It meant being confronted with every possible kind of obstacle and discrimination. It meant being told that if you want to race with men, you’d have to do it with your hands and legs cut off. I started to wish I had been born somewhere—anywhere—else.

How odd it is that we judge a woman by her clothes and the place she eats lunch and the subjects she talks about with her colleagues on her coffee break, yet we don’t judge a man if he doesn’t grow his beard or if he works with women or speaks to them. Why do Saudi women allow subjugation to a man and adhere to men’s rules and conditions? Why did I?

When one sees what happens in the world between the religions, the different religions - killing each other and murdering each other, it's disgusting and as far as I am concerned it's ridiculous. So I thought I might be useful, I believe in God and I believe in religion, but believe religions should belong to you. The extraordinary thing is that the Jews believe that only the Jews can go to paradise, the Christians believe that only a Christian can go to paradise and the Muslims believe that only the Muslims can go to paradise. Now why should God, in his great justice, make somebody born that cannot go to paradise - it is absurd. Please forgive me I don't mean to say it's absurd, people made it absurd.

Purification before revelation.

Gradually, I realized that the ideas I had embraced and defended blindly all my life represented a singular, and highly radical, point of view. I began to question everything.

To be alive, Professor Sharif, means not being completely consistent.

So you’re the infamous Manal al-Sharif,” he said, eyeing me from behind his desk. “Aren’t you ashamed of what you did?” “Is driving a car something shameful?” I answered back.

Sharif gave instructions to his staff regarding snacks he wanted served to all of us—Sharif often asked for specific food items during meetings, as if it helped him concentrate his mind.

Regardless, I told my boss it was no longer a good idea for me to see Sharif. He was married, older, rich, and powerful. As a pleasant-looking, pedigree-lacking American with hair issues, I was an extremely unlikely paramour. But Sharif had ended our visit with a dangling proposition--the mysterious identity of a second potential friend. I decided to stick to a tapped-phone relationship.

Because minor feelings are ongoing, they lend themselves more readily to forms and genres that are themselves serial, such as the graphic novel (the Hernandez Brothers, Adrian Tomine) or the serial poem (Wanda Coleman, Solmaz Sharif, Tommy Pico) or the episodic poetic essay (Bhanu Kapil, Claudia Rankine), but also, and more increasingly, are seen in literary fiction (Paul Beatty, Ling Ma).

I had been born into a sort of democracy in which for ten years Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif kept replacing each other, none of their governments ever completing a term and always accusing each other of corruption.

She took my papers, the papers that had followed me from the Khobar police station to jail, and pointed at a place where I was supposed to sign. On the paper there was a line for charges. In the blank space, someone had written “driving while female.

In collaboration with Sharif Razzaque There are many ways of making a fool of yourself with a digital computer, and to have one more can hardly make any difference. SIR MAURICE WILKES [1959], “THE EDSAC” Be careful how you fix what you don’t understand.

Self-evident, Sharif Basha thinks, laying down his pen. So self-evident as to be hardly worth saying. But Anna does not think so. Anna, when she sees a wrong, she cannot rest until it has been put right. Besides, she wants to make him happy. Not just happy at home, but happy altogether. He knows she imagines a day when the shadow within which their life together has been lived will be lifted. And she still has confidence in public opinion; that if only people can be made to see, to understand - then wrongs can be undone, and history set on a different course.

Studies suggest How may I help you officer? is the single most disarming thing to say and not What’s the problem? Studies suggest it’s best the help reply My pleasure and not No problem. Studies suggest it’s best not to mention problem in front of power even to say there is none. Gloria Steinem says women lose power as they age and yet the loudest voice in my head is my mother. Studies show the mother we have in mind isn’t the mother that exists. Mine says: What the fuck are you crying for? Studies show the baby monkey will pick the fake monkey with fake fur over the furless wire monkey with milk, without contest. Studies show to negate something is to think it anyway. I’m not sad. I’m not sad. Studies recommend regular expressions of gratitude and internal check-ins. Studies define assertiveness as self-respect cut with deference. Enough, the wire mother says. History is a kind of study. History says we forgave the executioner. Before we mopped the blood we asked: Lord Judge, have I executed well? Studies suggest yes. What the fuck are you crying for, officer? the wire mother teaches me to say, while America suggest Solmaz, have you thanked your executioner today?

Tell me a fact and I’ll learn. Tell me a truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever." Thank

Success is living your essence.

I feel the pain of all the hearts crying here. Silence has its own language.

Pain will be his guru.

I got a text from my husband. “Manal, you are divorced,” it read. “Your papers are in the court of Khobar.” I was divorced in my absence, just as I had been married.

Inside my mind, there was a growing sense of contradiction between what I heard in sermons and what I saw all around me.

while there are some scars that we might wish to hide because the spiritual or mental pain they represent is far greater than the physical pain caused to us at the time of injury, there are also some scars that we want to see whenever we look in the mirror. Because these scars serve as a valuable reminder of our past. My scars teach me that I am stronger than what caused them

We had grown used to watching bloodshed, massacres, and destruction in Muslim countries like Afghanistan, Bosnia, Chechnya, and Iraq; now, for the first time, we were seeing the same thing in America.

To be alive, Professor Sharif, means not being completely consistent. It means venturing out in many directions all at the same time, and I wonder if your friend didn’t find himself in the throes of some sort of upheaval. Maybe he really did destroy his life’s work. Maybe he revealed himself with all his inherent contradictions towards the end, and became a true human being in the best sense of the word.

The axiomatic thing about Saudi society is that while there are a seemingly infinite number of rules, it is also possible for people in authority to go outside those rules, and, if not break them, at least bend them quite a bit.

To make a good man, God has to use all of his skill. Some of the goodness of God himself goes into such a man. And when the man is ready to take his place on the earth, God must feel the pride that I feel when I look at the rug I am weaving, at the strands that bind closely together and knot and make a pattern, and at the beauty of the colours. Such a long day's work to make a good man! And yet, one bullet that takes a second to speed through the air and strike a man will kill him in an instant. How can God forgive such a thing? And yet He can, so it is said, for His heart is great and His forgiveness infinite, if the sinner repents. But I am not God and I cannot forgive the man who killed my brother.

It is an amazing contradiction: a society that frowns on a woman going out without a man; that forces you to use separate entrances for universities, banks, restaurants, and mosques; that divides restaurants with partitions so that unrelated males and females cannot sit together; that same society expects you to get into a car with a man who is not your relative, with a man who is a complete stranger, by yourself and have him take you somewhere inside a locked car, alone.

Incidentally, at a reception at Governor House, Atal recited his poem ‘Ab jung naa hone denge hum’. Atal was felicitated at Lahore Fort where, hinting at the common heritage of the two nations, he pointed out how Shah Jahan was born in the fort and Akbar had spent close to a decade there. The audience was so impressed by Atal’s speech that Nawaz Sharif quipped, ‘Vajpayee sahab ab toh Pakistan mein bhi election jeet sakte hain. [Mr Vajpayee can now win elections even in Pakistan.]

It is too soon to say how many of my generation may have learned to despise injustice as a consequence of the beatings, verbal abuse, and general cruelty that we suffered as children. But I know that I have, and I know that I will carry that lesson with me always.

Winnie glowered at the young man. “Mr. Sharif, you don’t understand the purpose of the stacks. You don’t go into the stacks expecting the precise answer to your burning-question-of-the-moment. It doesn’t work that way. In all the thousands of times that I’ve gone hunting in the stacks, I’ve seldom found exactly what I was looking for. You know what I did find? I found the books on close-by topics. I found answers to questions that I had never thought to ask. Those answers took me in new directions and were almost always more valuable than whatever I originally had in mind.

In the course of her letter writing, she’d learned a few things about the subtle peculiarities of the South’s power brokers. The Mississippi Sovereigns, like most other rebel groups, preferred to be addressed as Brothers; letters to Mr. Sharif, the director of Camp Patience, were exclusively read and acted upon by his secretary, but could never be addressed to his secretary; the Free Southern State government in Atlanta had a perfect record of responding to every letter, but no sooner than two years after the fact. She learned which methods of attack worked and which didn’t. Any familial relation between appellant and recipient, no matter how tenuous, was to be ruthlessly exploited; pictures of dead relatives or horrific war wounds never did any good, although the refugees in possession of such images invariably demanded they be sent anyway; a direct offer of bribery was more likely than not to elicit an insulted response, but an offer to make a donation to a cause of the recipient’s choosing got the same message across more tactfully. It was, in the end, hopeless work, the letters almost always doomed to fail. But for the refugees who paid or begged Martina to write these pleadings on their behalf, hopelessness was no impediment to hope.

Our coerced silence is the weapon that has been sharpened and brought to our throats. This is why Nawaz Sharif’s statement in defence of Ahmadis met with such an angry response. Because the heart of the issue isn’t whether Ahmadis are non-Muslims or not. The heart of the issue is whether Muslims can be silenced by fear. Because if we can be silenced when it comes to Ahmadis, then we can be silenced when it comes to Shias, we can be silenced when it comes to women, we can be silenced when it comes to dress, we can be silenced when it comes to entertainment, and we can even be silenced when it comes to sitting by ourselves, alone in a room, afraid to think what we think. That is the point.

Extremism frequently turns its champions into angry people, driven by conflicting desires. At first, I pitied my less enlightened parents and siblings. Then I felt superior to them, poor sinners that they were. Then I lost patience with their unwillingness to see the one true path and resorted to threats, intimidation, and yelling. At night, I was tormented by thoughts of what would happen to all us of when we reached our graves.

The punishment was quick in coming and was a typically stark violation of international law and human rights. The mayor of Khalil, its Qadi (judge in a Shari’a court) and the mayor of the nearby town Halhul were expelled at the end of that month. Typical of this method of official punishment, it was accompanied by vigilante retaliation by the settlers themselves who planted bombs in the cars of Bassam Shaq’a, the mayor of Nablus, and Karim Khalaf, the mayor of Ramallah, both of whom were badly injured. This turned out to be a step too far for the government, who feared this could become a ‘Jewish Underground’, which is indeed what happened. It transpired that a group of vigilantes was operating under the name ‘The Jewish Underground’. They were caught while preparing a terrorist attack on Haram al-Sharif, the Temple Mount, with the intention of blowing up the mosques there.

Michael Freeman was thirty-five years old – a former Special Forces soldier turned policeman. He was a tall and slim black man, with grey-flecked hair and dark almond-shaped eyes. His smile was tight-lipped – half knowing and half strategic. It hid a mouthful of craggy teeth. A childhood in Detroit's East Side with an aggressive, alcoholic father had taught him to play things close to his chest, to look and listen. His colleagues knew him as a patient thinker, sedulous, missing nothing given time. Intellectually savvy and emotionally guarded, he exuded certitude. In Afghanistan, in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, he spent several weeks as a mounted outlier with the Northern Alliance in the Alma Tak Mountains, beyond the range of reinforcement or rescue – drinking filtered ditchwater and eating nuts scavenged from corpses – and calling down massive airstrikes on Taliban positions. He gained a certain reputation. Word spread the length of the Darya Suf River valley, through the Tiangi Gap to the stronghold at Mazar-i-Sharif that there was a monster loose in the mountains and the Taliban called him ‘bor-buka', which seemed to mean black or devil or whirlwind, and, at times, all of these things.

Even a woman in labor will not be admitted into a hospital without her guardian or at least a mahram. Police cannot enter a home during a robbery, and firefighters are forbidden from entering a home during a fire or medical emergency if a woman is inside but does not have a mahram present. In 2014, Amna Bawazeer died on the campus of King Saud University when school officials refused to allow male paramedics to enter the female-only school after Amna collapsed from a heart ailment. The same story repeated itself in 2016 at Qaseem University when male paramedics were not allowed on campus to treat a female student, Dhuha Almane, who subsequently died. It is not a stretch to say that death is preferable to violating the strict code of guardianship and mahrams.

In the spring of 2004, the FBI arrested Mohammed Junaid Babar, an al Qaeda agent, as he returned to the U.S. from a terrorist planning meeting in Pakistan (CNN News – August 11, 2004). Facing the potential of a 70 year federal prison sentence, Babar confessed that al Qaeda “was planning a spectacular attack on American soil–a nuclear 9/11 that will occur simultaneously in major metropolitan areas throughout the country.” His testimony was confirmed by another al Qaeda participant at the same Pakistani planning session, Sharif al-Masri (The Day of Islam).

.....the discourse of the Qur’an-e-Sharif, rich in parable and allegory, metaphor and symbol, has been an inexhaustible well-spring of inspiration, lending itself to a wide spectrum of interpretations. This freedom of interpretation is a generosity which the Qur'an confers upon all believers, uniting them in the conviction that All-Merciful Allah will forgive them if they err in their sincere attempts to understand His word. Happily, as a result, the Holy Book continues to guide and illuminate the thought and conduct of Muslims belonging to different communities of interpretation and spiritual affiliation, from century to century, in diverse cultural environments. The Noble Qur’an extends its principle of pluralism also to adherents of other faiths. It affirms that each has a direction and path to which they turn so that all should strive for good works, in the belief that, wheresoever they may be, Allah will bring them together. - His Highness the Aga Khan, The Ismaili Center London, October 19, 2003 ‘Word of God, Art of Man: The Qur’an and its Creative Expressions’ An International Colloquium organised by Institute of Ismaili Studies

are drowning in knowledge but starving for wisdom

Our modern world places much value on learned factual knowledge while discounting experiential life knowledge. Stories

Subsequently, the two prime ministers were able to meet quietly in the privacy of Jindal’s hotel room in Nepal, where they are said to have spent an hour together. Elections in the sensitive state of Jammu and Kashmir were just a month away and Modi explained that while he was keen to find ways to reopen some formal channels, circumstances did not permit him to do so immediately. Sharif, in turn, told him about the constrictions imposed on him by the security establishment in Pakistan—his negotiating power with the army had been gradually whittled away. Both agreed they needed some more time and greater political space to move forward publicly.

I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought. “Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?” “Um. No. It just didn’t work out.” “Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered. “No. Nope. I don’t. I did.” “Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked. To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities. The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif, offering to find me a friend. Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities straight. “Sure. Why not?” I said. The

He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man universally considered cunning at business who many felt had outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango. “No. Who wants cunning?” “Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?” “I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.” We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif, that definitely was the strangest. Pakistan’s spies soon seemed to kick up their interest in me, maybe because I had written a few controversial stories, maybe because of Sharif. Sitting in my living room, I complained to several friends about a man named Qazi, a former army colonel who worked as part of intelligence over foreigners.

We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it. “Can you turn that off?” he asked. “Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record. “So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked. I was unsure what he meant. “I have a lot of friends,” I replied. “No. Do you have a friend?” I figured it out. “You mean a boyfriend?” “Yes.” I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told the truth.

He then offered to meet me the next day, at a friend’s apartment in Lahore, to give me the iPhone and have tea. No, I said. I was going to Faridkot. Sharif finally came to the point. “Kim. I am sorry I was not able to find you a friend. I tried, but I failed.” He shook his head, looked genuinely sad about the failure of the project. “That’s OK,” I said. “Really. I don’t really want a friend right now. I am perfectly happy without a friend. I want to be friendless.” He paused. And then, finally, the tiger of Punjab pounced. “I would like to be your friend.” I didn’t even let him get the words out. “No. Absolutely not. Not going to happen.

Hear me out.” He held his hand toward me to silence my negations as he made his pitch. He could have said anything—that he was a purported billionaire who had built my favorite road in Pakistan, that he could buy me a power plant or build me a nuclear weapon. But he opted for honesty. “I know, I’m not as tall as you’d like,” Sharif explained. “I’m not as fit as you’d like. I’m fat, and I’m old. But I would still like to be your friend.” “No,” I said. “No way.” He then offered me a job running his hospital, a job I was eminently unqualified to perform. “It’s a huge hospital,” he said. “You’d be very good at it.” He said he would only become prime minister again if I were his secretary. I

During his second term, Sharif built my favorite road in Pakistan, a hundred and seventy miles of paved, multilaned bliss connecting Lahore to Islamabad; named Musharraf as chief of the army; and successfully tested the country’s first nuclear weapon.

The crush of men waved their arms in the air and shouted that they loved Sharif. He spoke into a microphone, but it was broken and no one could hear anything he said. Speech over, Sharif climbed down from the counter and slipped into a bulletproof black Mercedes, courtesy of his good friend, King Abdullah, who had also shipped Sharif back to Pakistan in a Saudi royal plane. Now,

You do not want to live in a country ruled by people who never have any doubts. To have doubts is human. A horse has no doubts, a grasshopper has no doubts, an ant has no doubts. But a human being stops to think sometimes, and when he thinks, he hears a voice asking quietly, 'Are you certain that you are right? You must be certain before you pull that trigger. You must be certain before you put your knife to that man's throat.' Would God have given us the power to question if he wanted us to behave like grasshoppers and ants? I am sure God takes pleasure in all the creatures of the world, but I am also sure that his greatest pleasure is a human being who puts his knife away because he is not sure, because a doubt has come into his mind.

على ربع ثانية ضوئية تستقرّ الأرض .. في كون يتمدد , لن نلجم فيه الزمان وإن رقّـمنا أعوامنا أو أسمينا أيامنا , فما نحن منه إلا لحظة آنيّة قد لا نحيا بعدها .. وهو يمضي لا يتعب ولا يتوقف ولا يرجع , أيام خلت قبلنا وأقوام .. فلا أيامنا الأكثر قبحاً .. ولا نحن خير الأقوام , وقد يحابينا الخير في بعضها وإن لم نره .. ويجافينا في بعضها , وليس لنا فيها إلا الشغف بالأفضل والسعي نحو الأكمل , والإرادة القلقة .. التي نقرأ بها أمسنا ونعي يومنا ونخطّ غدنا وننتظر أجلنا , ونبقى أبداً تحت سلطة صاحب الزمان .. نسلّم له أمرنا ولا نخضع لسوء حالنا .. إلى أن تشرق الشمس من مغربها .

عليك أن تحيا كما لو كنت تتسلّق جبلاً صعباً .. سيجلد ذاتك .. تعباً وقلقاً ورعباً , ولكنّ لمحة نحو الأسفل ستردعك .. ونظرة نحو الأعلى ستدفعك .. لتواصل طـريقك وتمضي فيه ولا تتعثّر .. وإن تعثّرت فلا تتوقف .. وإن توقفت فلا تتقهقر , فقط تريّث ثم تابع ببطء وثبات وثقة , ويوماً ما عندما تصل إلى قمتك .. يكفيك أن تنظر تحت قدميك .. وتتذكر .

الالتزام هو ذاك التنبيه الذي يتولد في ثنايا عقلك , والتأنيب الذي يدقّ أبواب ضميرك , هو الفكرة التي تقيّد بها جوارحك , الكلمة التي تعكس مرآة ذاتك , الفعل الذي يصدح في الأفق مانحاً قيمتك , هو الزمن الذي تخلقه في زحمة أيامك , والمادّة التي ترمّم بها اهتراء شخصك , هو القوة التي تقفز بها فوق ظلّك , والمبدأ الذي ترسم منه خط صبرك , هو صدقك الخافت .. ونصرك البسيط جداً في وجه الحياة .

إنّ هذا العالم ليس مشرقاً على الدوام كما تتمنى .. إنه مكان جلّ ما فيه قذر وبغيض , سيبرحك ضرباً وألماً حتى ترضخ .. وسيبقيك هناك على حالك للأبد إن استسلمت له لحظة واحدة , والأمر لا يتعلق بمقدار الوجع الذي تسبّبه ضرباتك .. وإنما بكمّ الضربات الموجعة التي يمكنك تلقّيها والبقاء صامداً .. تتقدّم للأمام , إن الأمر يتعلق بمدى ذاك الألم الذي تستطيع تحمّله .. وتظلّ عصياً دائماً .. تتقدّم للأمام , هكذا تصنع إنجازك .. هكذا تكتب إنتصارك .

تحدث النهايات الجميلة أحياناً .. فقط لأن المؤلف توقف عن سرد القصة , فالأحداث الأليمة ربما ما زالت مستمرة .. لكنها ببساطة لم تعد تروى , وعلى صفحات الواقع سيبقى هناك من يعيشها .. يسكن فيها و يرويها .. وينتظر زمناً يخرج فيه من تعب سياقها أو يتوقف عن شقاء سردها .

لا يَحتاجوننا .. لا يَحتاجونَ ما نحملُ من شهادات ولا ما نملكُ من خبرات .. وإن وُجدت , لا يحتاجونَ عِلمنا ولا عَملنا .. لا عَددنا ولا عَديدنا , ولا يهمُهم حَقنُ دمائنا ولا رفعُ شأننا ولا كبحُ فسادنا .. ولا حمايتُنا من الإنقراض , بل يَبغونَ دوماً .. بلادَنا هاويةً خاويةً لهم .. وشعبَنا شارداً يُسبّحُ بحمدهم , يُريدونَ إلهاءنا لا إلجاءنا .. فحُروبُهم في أرضِنا ترتمي .. وسلامُنا إلى أرضِهم ينتمي , يَزرعونَ كلابهم فينا .. وبهم من كلابهم .. نحتمي .

ربّما البشرُ كالكلماتْ , البعضُ مُؤهلٌ للرّفع .. والبعضُ يَحترفُ النّصب .. والبعضُ مَحكومٌ بالجـرّ .. والبقيةُ لا حولَ لها .. ولا أمـرْ .

في شي .. ما عم بموتْ , خَراب البيوتْ .. لصُوص القوتْ .. كَتم الصوتْ , كيَاس الدمْ .. كُوام الهمْ .. دُموع الأمْ , حَدايق القبورْ .. غَرقى البحورْ .. خِتمْ العبورْ , نَبش الذكرياتْ .. صَندوق المعوناتْ .. وَرق البياناتْ , ولاد الشوارعْ .. لَزق الطوابعْ .. رفع القواطعْ , طُلوع السافلْ .. رأي الجاهلْ .. وفَرح القاتلْ , وفي شي .. أبداً .. ما رح يموتْ .. إرادة حَياة .. أملْ بعيدْ .. قَلمْ .. ودُعاء القُنوتْ .

Sometimes such hopelessness cannot be described in words. My blood pressure rises in frustration. The mind becomes infected with sadness. Life is a boat without oars. Where we will drop anchor nobody knows. After years of drifting abroad to make the family happy, some will never get satisfaction themselves. Neither is the family pleased. Sometimes it's surreal to watch, an empty book of sighs. If the unwanted pain makes us cry, there's no echo because it's emptiness everywhere. There are no perfect walls, so the scream goes and goes and never comes back. I feel like a stranger to myself. Once again, we start over the daily grind.

Old City in Jerusalem—known to Muslims as the Haram al-Sharif, the site where Muhammad ascended to heaven, marked by the spectacular Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque, and to Jews as the Temple Mount, where the sacred Temple had stood in ancient times. Below the Muslim shrine on the mount, Jews gather to pray at the Wailing Wall, the only remnant of the Temple.

A very honest man,” said Weizmann afterward of Faisal. “Handsome as a picture.” At two subsequent meetings, Faisal espoused their affinity as “cousins by blood . . . the two main branches of the Semitic family, Arab and Jew.” The two men seemed to agree on a Jewish “home” in Palestine based on the Balfour Declaration and Jewish immigration. But Faisal added that any agreement was predicated on “the independence of the Arab lands” and uniting “the Arabs eventually into one nation,” under the Hashemites, as the family of Sharif Hussein and Prince Faisal was known. But this was definitely not in the cards in postwar peacemaking.

Heroes are rebels with a cause. Rebels because they challenge the traditional ways of thinking and refuse to follow the herd. They have a cause, a vision, that’s larger than life.

Established In Year 2000 The Company Is One Of The Leading Car Rental Ajmer Provider In The City. We Provide Taxi Hire Services In Ajmer Round The Clock As Per The Need & Comfort Of Our Valuable Clients. We Have Our Own Fleet Of Luxary Cabs & Coaches In Ajmer . We Have Well Experienced As Well As Well Behaved Drivers To Assist Our Clients. We As Well Provide Taxi Hire For Outstations From Ajmer. The City Is Quite Popular For It’s Mix Culture As Well As For The Dargah Sharif Ajmer & Holy Town Pushkar As Well As Brahma Temple Pushkar. Taxi In Ajmer For Local Purposes We Also Provide Cars & Coaches Within The City For Domestic Purposes As well as for marriage parties . We Take Care of Transportation For Corporate Meetings and Confrences in Ajmer .

Break the spell of the Word and you break the spell of the world.

Generosity liberates the soul.

We daughters of Circassian mothers were called “cats” by our sisters who had Abyssinian blood in their veins, because some of us had the misfortune to possess blue eyes. And then they spoke to us sarcastically as “your Highness,” as further proof of their indignation at our having come into the world with white skin. Nor did they forgive my father for selecting as pets his two daughters Sharife and Chole from the loathsome tribe of cats.

Sharif Miyan: "I wish I did, though. Own some land, that is. My family owned it once when I was a young man. It's all gone now." Sharif Miyan's eyes had a faraway look in them, as if he could still see the land. Avi: "Where did it go?" Sharif Miyan: "We lost it during Partition. My family owned many farms in Punjab---the one in Pakistan." Avi: "But land does not go anywhere, does it?" Sharif Miyan: "You are right. Land does not. It's not the people who go away. I know where my land is in Punjab. I can see it. I can walk on it. But it is not mine. Isn't that terrible? I can never forget the day when those landgrabbers held my family at gunpoint and told me to leave. I didn't think I would have to leave the country.

When I was prime minister people made a lot of fun of the fact that aye Nawaz Sharif prime minister saara kuj Abba jee kolon jaa ke puchda aye (This prime minister Nawaz Sharif consults his father on every matter)!

he only Protestant church in the Old City, it was still in use as both a tourist destination and a functioning house of worship. And as Harry had said, security was virtually non-existent. Above the church, high above the neo-Romanesque architecture of the Berliner Friedrich Adler, rose the bell tower. From its lofty height, one could gaze down on well-nigh the entire city. And have a clear shot at almost anyone in the Haram al-Sharif…

The daughters of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)—whose practices Muslims look to for much of their everyday guidance—were not circumcised. Rather than drawing on religious sources, advocates of circumcision adhere to social customs and scientifically unproven beliefs, which state that the procedure protects the girl from “deviant” behavior by removing her desire for sex.

The Prophetic Sunnah makes clear the Glorious Qur’an. Consequently, the Law of Islam (1) never is practised without the Prophetic Sunnah. For example, we, as Muslims, did not know how to perform the Prayers from the Glorious Qur’an, but we learnt how to perform the Prayers from the Prophetic Sunnah. It was the guidance for us. The Muslims always say: The Messenger of Allah ﷺ has spoken the truth. Allah said in the Qur’anic verse: (Nor does he speak from (his own) inclination It is not but a revelation revealed) (2) [Surah An-Najm: 3, 4]. __________ (1) The Islamic Shari'ah. (2) The Qur’an (English Meanings and Notes by Saheeh International), Al-Azhar Ash-Sharif, Islamic Research Academy, General Department for Research, Writing & Translation.

The military-industrial complex was one of Pakistan’s binding forces, alongside Islam, national pride, suspicion of India and America, and cricket. One common narrative about Pakistan held that its powerful army competed for power with civilian political families like the Bhuttos and the Sharifs.

This history of wanting, Mahabat,” Sharif said slowly. “I have learned this much. It is better to want than to have a desire fulfilled. Once it is . . . it has little importance. So it will be for the Emperor.

I believe women are viewed as the weaker sex because it isn’t until you put them under great strain that their strength comes to the surface. It’s rarely seen.

Taylor has not only been a part of meticulously documenting the history of emo with well-researched commentary and thoughtful interviews as a journalist, but has lived and breathed it as a passionate fan.

Don’t get attached to a label called religion which society has stuck on you. After all, the Life-giving source – the breath that you and I take and what keeps us alive – is the same. Which is why, religion and rituals are totally avoidable. Yes, there’s a Higher Energy that governs all of us. It is both the creator and the destroyer. So, as part of celebrating yourself, if you want to go to some place to celebrate that Higher Energy (if you believe the Energy is location-specific) – Sabarimalai, Ajmer Sharif, Velankanni, Amritsar, Mecca, Vatican, wherever – simply go. But please don’t get waylaid by people who tell you that religion dictates or rituals demand this and that from you. Do what you feel like to enable your communion with divinity. Just be sure to be happy doing what you are doing. Nothing else – and no one else – really matters!

A day with you/rounaque is a special day. Fresh as morning shine shines, like a bee which collects sweet

Outside the closed doors to the throne room, Sharif the high elder waited, holding a kaftan robe of red silk and velvet in one hand and a long spear nearly twice his height in the other. Jasmine's heart beat faster as she recognized the gold trim and signature jewels lining the robe, the ancient craftsmanship of the spear. These had belonged to Cyrus the Great, the first ruler of the empire. And in mere moments, she would be the first woman to feel them against her skin. Nadia untied Jasmine's peacock cape while the high elder held out the red robe. "Today you shed the persona of Jasmine, the princess," he said, "and step into the skin of a sultana." Jasmine took a deep breath, slipping her arms into the preserved silk. The material was more fragile than anything she'd worn before, and she was conscious that one wrong step, one tear of the fabric, would be rip through history. Yet she felt stronger in the cape too, as though Cyrus were transferring his power through it to her. When Sharif handed her Cyrus's spear, she could barely contain her awe.

A day with you/ron is a special day. Fresh as morning shine shines, like a bee which collects sweet

Though demonized by his Jewish and British enemies, Hajj Amin al-Husayni in fact cooperated well enough with the mandate administration. Only gradually did he use his religious authority to achieve a position of significant political influence contrary to British interests. It was a potent mix. The key event in this transformation was the so-called ‘Western Wall riots’ in 1929. The Western Wall was the only revealed section of what remained from the massive retaining wall built by Herod. This wall allowed Herod to enlarge the platform on which the Second Temple stood before being destroyed in 70 CE. Given this association, the wall became Judaism’s most important place of pilgrimage and prayer. The wall also was part of a Muslim religious trust (waqf): Muslim attachment to the wall and to the al-Haram al-Sharif (or ‘Noble Sanctuary’, as the Temple Mount is known in Arabic) is due to their association with the story of Muhammad’s night journey to heaven. The wall is known to Muslims as al-Buraq, because Muhammad tethered his horse there, and the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa mosque, built in the 7th century, are two of Islam’s most revered buildings.