“We became acquainted with each in silence and darkness, as speaking was forbidden under the watchful eyes of the guards. Our fingers dexterously and warily began to write on each other’s ribs beautiful tales and stories, events and jokes. Fingers were transformed into pens, the sides of chests into pages. In those stolen moments, life was reduced to signs and gestures that we alone created and we alone understood.”—Fatna El Bouih, Talk of Darkness (Translated from teh Arabic by Mustapha Kamal and Susan Slyomovics), 2008.
“But what’s the point, then?” Amaka said to Father Amadi, as if she had not heard her mother. “What the church is saying is that only an English name will make your confirmation valid. ‘Chiamaka’ says God is beautiful. ‘Chima’ says God knows best, ‘Chiebuka’ says God is the greatest. Don’t they all glorify God as much as ‘Paul’ and ‘Peter’ and ‘Simon’?”—from Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie (via blackwomensaid)
“Feelings, whether of compassion or irritation, should be welcomed, recognized, and treated on an absolutely equal basis; because both are ourselves. The tangerine I am eating is me. The mustard greens I am planting are me. I plant with all my heart and mind. I clean this teapot with the kind of attention I would have were I giving the baby Buddha or Jesus a bath. Nothing should be treated more carefully than anything else. In mindfulness, compassion, irritation, mustard green plant, and teapot are all sacred.”—Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness (via monamade)