Some days you’ll feel everything. The weight of your thoughts, your past, your unspoken pain. It’ll all come crashing in like waves that don’t stop. And some days… you’ll feel nothing at all. You’ll go through the motions, numb, distant, tired of feeling tired. But even in those moments—Allah sees you. Even when you don’t have the words for your du’a. Even when all you can do is breathe. Healing is not loud. It happens slowly… in quiet prayers, silent nights, and in the spaces where only Allah knows what’s breaking. Be gentle with yourself. You are not behind. You are not lost. You are exactly where you need to be… For Allah to bring you back to Him, beautifully.
Therefore I WASH MY HAND when it has helped a sufferer and also wipe my soul for i saw the sufferer suffer and because i saw it i was ashamed for account of his shame .. I saw then ,helped them but saw them in their worst condition where their pride was wounded,he had to ask me for help,I helped him his pride wounded more ,it's beyond human dignity to ask help from others
It was from feeling oneself that one had reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could not be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never could become a different man; that even if time and faith were still left you to change into something different you would most likely not wish to change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into. -notes from underground
Feels like a mouse.. armed with the knowledge to conquer a giant monster.. yet paralyzed by own doubts.. mind is a maze of overthinking where theories nd intellect reign.. but courage flees. . trapped in a cycle of wanting to act but unable to take the leap..
Man is stupid, you know, phenomenally stupid; or rather he is not at all stupid, but he is so ungrateful that you could not find another like him in all creation. I, for instance, would not be in the least surprised if all of a sudden, A PROPOS of nothing, in the midst of general prosperity a gentleman with an ignoble, or rather with a reactionary and ironical, countenance were to arise and, putting his arms akimbo, say to us all: "I say, gentleman, hadn't we better kick over the whole show and scatter rationalism to the winds, simply to send these logarithms to the devil, and to enable us to live once more at our own sweet foolish will!" That again would not matter, but what is annoying is that he would be sure to find followers--
Oh, gentlemen, do you know, perhaps I consider myself an intelligent man, only because all my life I have been able neither to begin nor to finish anything. Granted I am a babbler, a harmless vexatious babbler, like all of us. But what is to be done if the direct and sole vocation of every intelligent man is babble, that is, the intentional pouring of water through a sieve? -notes from underground
The pleasure of despair. But then, it is in despair that we find the most acute pleasure, especially when we are aware of the hopelessness of the situation... ...everything is a mess in which it is impossible to tell what's what, but that despite this impossibility and deception it still hurts you, and the less you can understand, the more it hurts.
I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced..
submitted by
uploaded by
profile:
Sorry! Ap apne item ya profile ko report nahi kar saktey, na hi apne ap ko block kar saktey hain