Earth: the things that are solid, absorbed and still.
Water: the things that are fluid, changing and unpredictable.
Wind: the things that shift, evolve and challenge.
Fire: the things that damage, devastate and distroy.
The void: the things that are present through their absence

Was it really better for human beings to discover more of their pasts? And then more and more...? Or was it simply better to know as little of the past as possible and even to forget what small amount was remembered?

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Life below the surface is neither simple nor monotonous. The subterranean, contrary to what most people think, is bustling with activity. As you tunnel deep down, you might be surprised to see the soil take on unexpected shades. Rusty red, soft peach, warm mustard, lime green, rich turquoise … Humans teach their children to paint the earth in one colour alone. They imagine the sky in blue, the grass in green, the sun in yellow and the earth entirely in brown.

إذا أردت أن تقوي إيمانك، فيجب أن تكون لينًا في داخلك. لأنه لكي يشتد إيمانك، ويصبح صلبًا كالصخرة، يجب أن يكون قلبك خفيفًا كالريشة. فإذا أصابنا بمرض، أو وقعت لنا حادثة، أو تعرضنا لخسارة، أو أصابنا خوف، بطريقة أو بأخرى، فإننا نواجه جميعًا الحوادث التي تعلمنا كيف نصبح أقل أنانية وأكثر حكمة، وأكثر عطفًا. وأكثر كرمًا. ومع أن بعضنا يتعلم الدرس ويزداد رقة واعتدالاً، يزداد آخرون قسوة. إن الوسيلة التي تمكنك من الاقتراب من الحقيقة أكثر تكمن في أن يتسع قلبك لاستيعاب البشرية كلها وأن يظل فيه متسع لمزيد من الحب.

Not a very sensible thing to do, I admit, to fall for someone who is not of your kind, someone who will only complicate your life, disrupt your routine and mess with your sense of stability and rootedness. But, then again, anyone who expects love to be sensible has perhaps never loved.

I know every single street in this town. And I love strolling these streets in the mornings, in the evenings, and then at night when I am merry and tipsy. I love to have breakfasts with my friends along the Bosphorus on Sundays, I love to walk alone amid the crowds. I am in love with the chaotic beauty of this city, the ferries, the music, the tales, the sadness, the colors, and the black humor.....

In many parts of the world you were what you said and what you did and, also, what you read; in Turkey, as in all countries haunted by questions of identity, you were, primarily, what you rejected. It seemed that the more people went on about an author, the less likely it was that they had read their books.

- Правило номер четирийсет - каза бавно Ела. - Живот без любов не е живот. Не се питай към каква любов да се стремиш, духовна или материална, божествена или земна, източна или западна.
Започнеш ли да делиш нещата, възниква ново и ново делене. Любовта няма етикети, няма определения. Тя просто е това, което е.

Любовта е жива вода. А влюбеният е душа от огън!

Светът се върти по друг начин, когато огънят обикне водата.