We are split people. For myself, half of me wishes to sit quietly with legs crossed, letting the things that are beyond my control wash over me. But the other half wants to fight a holy war. Jihad! And certainly we could argue this out in the street, but I think, in the end, your past is not my past and your truth is not my truth and your solution---it is not my solution. So I do not know what it is you would like me to say. Truth and firmness is one suggestion, though there are many people you can ask if that answer does not satisfy. Personally, my hope lies in the last days. The prophet Muhammad---peace be upon Him!---tells us that on the Day of Resurrection everyone will be struck unconscious. Deaf and dumb. No chitchat. Tongueless. And what a bloody relief that will be.

If religions are diseases of the human psyche, as the philosopher Grintholde asserts, then religious wars must be reckoned the resultant sores and cankers infecting the aggregate corpus of the human race. Of all wars, these are the most detestable, since they are waged for no tangible gain, but only to impose a set of arbitrary credos upon another's mind.

Religion is so frequently a source of confusion in political life, and so frequently dangerous to democracy, precisely because it introduces absolutes into the realm of relative values.

We’re built of contradictions, all of us. It’s those opposing forces that give us strength, like an arch, each block pressing the next. Give me a man whose parts are all aligned in agreement and I’ll show you madness. We walk a narrow path, insanity to each side. A man without contradictions to balance him will soon veer off.

It was like a war inside me; I couldn’t even recognize all the sides. There was one that said, ‘No, this is wrong; you know it’s wrong and bad and sinful,’ and there was another that said, ‘Nothing has ever felt so right and natural and true and good,’ and another that said it was happening too fast, and another that just wanted to stop thinking altogether and fling my arms around Annie and hold her forever. There were other sides, too, but I couldn’t sort them out.

هل تعلمين أن الناس لا يعرفون عنا سوى نهاياتنا ؟عندما نموت ,نصبح رمزًا للجهاد والمقاومة. والرمز لا حياة شخصية لديه ولا احتياجات, لديه هدف فقط , من أجله يعيش ومن أجله يموت, بهذا المعنى نكون "مخلوقات ظل" تهفوا إلى "النور" نكون قد عبرنا إلى منطقة النور حين نستشهد. كينونتنا منذ زمن هي كينونة هذا "الرمز" كل نفس يتردد في صدورنا هو في سبيل الله. فكيف نعود إلى حياة البشر الفانين؟ نحيا لنأكل ونقرأ ونتفسح وننام .. لنعيد الكرة في اليوم التالي "التكرار" تلك الكلمة المقيتة. أليس التكرار هو طابع جهنم؟ جسد يحترق ثم يُكسَى لحمًا ليحترق مرة أخرى كأن شيئًا لم يكن؟