Mesa Selimovic Quotes & Sayings

I swear on time, which is the beginning and the end of everything, that everybody is always at lost ... — Mesa Selimovic

Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt. — Mesa Selimovic

I developed in thousands of changes, and it always seemed to me that all of my former self disappeared with each new change, that it was lost in the mists of time that had passed and were now insignificant. But then, again and again, unexpectedly, I would find traces of everything that had been, like uncovered artifacts, like my own fossil strata; although they were old and unsightly, they became dear and beautiful. That rediscovered, recovered part of me, which was more than a memory, was beautified and returned from unreachable distances by time, which joined me with it. Thus, it had a twofold existence, as a part of my present personality, and as a memory. As the present, and as a beginning. — Mesa Selimovic

What is the devotion if there is no temptation which is master on their own? The man is not God and his strength is just in that to suppress its nature, if there is nothing to suppress what's the difference? — Mesa Selimovic

Yes, I've changed. I used to believe in everything that you do, maybe even more firmly. But then in Smyrna, Talib-effendi said to me: 'When you see a young man reaching for the sky, grab him by the leg and pull him back down to the ground.' And he pulled me back down to the ground. 'You are destined to live here,' he scolded me. 'So live here! And live as nicely as you can, but without shame. It is better that God ask you: why did you not do that? rather than: why did you do that?"'
"And what are you now?"
"A wanderer on wide roads where I meet good and bad people, who have the same worries and troubles as people do here, who have the same trivial joys as people do everywhere."
"What would happen if everyone took your path?"
"The world would be happier. Maybe. — Mesa Selimovic

when people settle their accounts, guilt is easy to find, and justice is the right to do whatever we think must be done, and therefore justice can be anything. — Mesa Selimovic

And what never happened always seems beautiful. You are a deception that gives birth to discontent, a deception that I cannot and do not wish to drive away, since it disarms me and protects me from suffering with a quiet grief. — Mesa Selimovic

I cried. In the spring I returned home from captivity, on muddy roads, without my saber, without strength, without joy, without my former self. I was holding on to a mere memory, like a talisman, but even that became weak; it lost its color and freshness, its vivacity and former meaning. I trudged silently onward, through the mud of the gloomy plains; I spent the nights in silence, in village bowers and inns; I walked in silence, in the spring rains, guessing my direction like an animal, driven by the desire to die in my homeland, among the people who had given me life. — Mesa Selimovic

Life always sinks downward. It takes effort to avoid that. — Mesa Selimovic

No one could take her away from me alive; I held her pinned to the ground in that beastly grip. The river became silent; the only sound was that of bells within me, unknown and unrung until then, all of my bells, as if they were sounding an alarm. People would gather around; they did not concern me; they did not exist. Oh, my dream, which has become a victim. — Mesa Selimovic

Cruelty in the name of kindliness is terrible; it would bind our feet and hands; it would kill us with hypocrisy. Cruelty based on power is better - that we can at least hate. — Mesa Selimovic

Sincerity is the certitude that we speak the truth (and who can be certain of that?), but there are many kinds of honesty, and they do not always agree with one another. — Mesa Selimovic

A CHILD SPOKE ABOUT HIS FEAR, LONG AGO. IT RESEMBLED A little song:

In the attic
there's a beam that hits you on the head,
there's a wind that bangs the shutters,
there's a mouse that peeps out of the corner. — Mesa Selimovic

I strained to hear a voice from that stone, or grave, as if beneath it were hidden the secret of life and death. I sat on the cliff's edge, above the endless forests and crags and listened to the snakelike hissing of the mountain wind, in a twofold wasteland of loneliness and nonexistence, like the ancient corpse under the slab. — Mesa Selimovic

When I came back, they gave me blank looks. Some said, 'I don't think I've seen you for days.' Some not even that. And I'd been away for ten years! — Mesa Selimovic

The listener is the midwife in the difficult birth of the word. — Mesa Selimovic

I went along the level shore and walked in the shallow water, stepping in and out of it, as if drunk, enthralled by the soft gurgling of the swift current; I stood in the water up to my knees and imagined that I was sinking deeper and deeper into a whirlpool: deeper and deeper, the water was up to my chin, to my lips, over my head. Above me the current was rippling, around me there was a greenish silence, the swaying grasses wrapped around my legs. I was also swaying, like a blade of grass; small fish swam into my mouth and out of my ears; crayfish caught my toes with their claws; a large, slow fish brushed against my thigh. Peace. Indifference. "Hey!" I cried, silently, and sat down in the grove between the path and the river, between life and death. — Mesa Selimovic

On the day of my death, when they carry my coffin,
do not think that I will feel pain for this world.
Do not cry and say: it is a great loss!
When milk sours, the loss is greater.
I shall not vanish when you see them lay me in the grave.
Do the sun and moon vanish when they set?
This seems like a death to you, but it is a birth.
The grave seems like a prison to you, but the soul has been freed.
What grain does not sprout when it is put into the ground?
So why do you not believe in the grain of men? — Mesa Selimovic

No one should be allowed to stop in one place any longer than necessary. A man isn't a tree, and being settled in one place is his misfortune. It saps his courage, breaks his confidence. When a man settles down somewhere, he agrees to any and all of its conditions, even the disagreeable ones, and frightens himself with the uncertainty that awaits him. Change to him seems like abandonment, like a loss of an investment: someone else will occupy his domain, and he'll have to begin again. Digging oneself in marks the real beginning of old age, because a man is young as long as he isn't afraid to make new beginnings. If he stays in the same place, he has to put up with things, or take action. If he moves on, he keeps his freedom; he's ready to change places and the conditions imposed on him. — Mesa Selimovic

Two genuinely human thoughts are always different, just as two men's palms are."
"What's a genuinely human thought?"
"One that's usually not told to anyone. — Mesa Selimovic

I was mistaken. Not because he would have hidden anything from me, but because he was a deep and shadowy well, whose bottom could not be seen easily. And not because he in particular was like that, but because people are like that in general, unfathomable as soon as we get to know them better. — Mesa Selimovic

It was autumn, the time for traveling, he had gotten used to it, as storks do. The swallows had already flown south; soon wild geese would begin honking high above, flying their courses, and he would look into the sky at their formations and imagine the strange pleasures of his wanderings. He was kept from one love by another. — Mesa Selimovic

Do you know what I was thinking while you spoke? That some people can say whatever they want, and whether you agree or not, it doesn't upset you. Others throw themselves into a single word, and suddenly everything glows red-hot and no one can keep calm. We sense that something important is happening. That's no longer conversation. — Mesa Selimovic

I love words; it doesn't matter which, it doesn't matter about what. (I am writing down, at random, things that he said one night, while the kasaba slept in the darkness.) Conversation is a link between people, maybe the only one. That's what an old soldier taught me, we were captured together, thrown into a prison together, chained together and bound to the same iron ring on the wall. — Mesa Selimovic

People easily forget what they're not proud of. — Mesa Selimovic

Give me strength to forgive. Because he who forgives is the greatest. And I know I cannot forget. — Mesa Selimovic

If anyone considers this strange, or even unlikely, I can only say that the truth is something very strange, and we convince ourselves that it does not exist because we are ashamed of it, as we are of a leprous child, although in this manner the truth is not rendered less alive or less truthful. We usually beautify our thoughts and hide the vipers that slither within us. If we hide them, do they not exist? — Mesa Selimovic

The earth is uninhabitable, like the moon, and we only delude ourselves thinking that it's our true home, since we have no other place to go. The earth is good for those who are irrational or invulnerable. — Mesa Selimovic

At first I followed her deliberately soft voice, which had the timber of a zurna,* and listened to her speech, which resembled embroidery or a string of pearls, words and phrases completely different from those of the townspeople, somewhat withered yet ornate, with the aura of those old chambers and something enduring. — Mesa Selimovic

But that's the point of it all: to come back. To long for someplace else, to leave and to arrive again at the place where you started. If it weren't for the place that you're tied to, you wouldn't want it or any other world, either; you wouldn't have anywhere to depart from, because you'd be nowhere. And you're also nowhere if that's the only place you have. Because then you don't think about it, long for it, or love it. And that's not good. You need to think, to long for something, to love. — Mesa Selimovic

It became clear to me how men die. I saw that it is not so hard. Or easy. It is nothing. One just starts living less and less, being less and less, thinking, feeling and knowing less and less. The rich flow of life dries up, and only a thin thread of uncertain consciousness remains, more and more meager, more and more insignificant. And then nothing happens, there is not anything, there is nothing. And nothing matters - it is all the same. — Mesa Selimovic

But the problem is that you don't dare to think about anything. You're afraid; you don't know where your thoughts might lead you. Everything inside you is confused. You keep your eyes closed and stay on the old path. They brought you here, I don't know why and it doesn't concern me, but you won't accept my explanations of human guilt. You think it's a joke. Maybe it is, but maybe one could develop quite a nice philosophical idea out of it — Mesa Selimovic

Death is a certainty, an inevitable realization, the only thing that we know will befall us. There are no exceptions, no surprises: all paths lead to it. Everything we do is a preparation for it, a preparation that we begin at birth, whimpering with our foreheads against the ground. We never move farther away from death, only closer. But if it is a certainty, then why are we surprised when it comes? If this life is a short passage that lasts only an hour or a day, then why do we fight to prolong it one more day or hour? Worldly life is treacherous, eternity is better.3 — Mesa Selimovic

The emperor, as the story went, received as a gift some wondrous glass dishes. He liked the gifts very much, but smashed them all nonetheless. "Why? Are they not beautiful?" he was asked. "Precisely because of that," he answered. "They are so beautiful that it would be hard for me to lose them. And with time they would break, one by one. And I would be sorrier than I am now. — Mesa Selimovic

We should kill our pasts with each passing day. Blot them out, so that they will not hurt. Each present day could thus be endured more easily, it would not be measured against what no longer exists. As things are, spectres mix with our lives so that there is neither pure memory nor pure life. They clash and try to strangle each other, continually — Mesa Selimovic

And if you'd been healthy and happy, you wouldn't have come home?"
"When everything is lost a man seeks refuge, as if he were returning to his mother's womb."
"And after that?"
"After that he forgets. He's driven to it by his restlessness. He wants to be what he was not, or what he was. He runs away from his fortune and looks for another. — Mesa Selimovic

Where's the sun?" he asked me once.
"Behind the clouds."
"Is it always there? Even when it's cloudy?"
"Always."
"Could we see it if we climbed to the top of that poplar?"
"No."
"And if we were on a minaret?"
"No. The clouds are above the minaret."
"And if a hole was made in the clouds?"
Indeed, why don't people make holes in clouds for boys who love the sun? — Mesa Selimovic

Fear is flooding over me, like water.
The living know nothing. Teach me, dead ones, how to die without fear, or at least without horror. Because death is senseless, as is life. — Mesa Selimovic

I'm slowly becoming a repository for decomposing sorrows, regrets, ignored injustice, and forgotten promises. I can still feel its stench. But when I get accustomed to it, I will call it experience. — Mesa Selimovic

Friendship is not chosen, he said, it happens, who knows why, like love. And I haven't bestowed anything on you, but on myself; I respect men who remain magnanimous even in their misfortune. — Mesa Selimovic

But there could be no new beginning, nor would one be important. We are not aware when new beginnings arrive; we only discover them later when they have already engulfed us, when everything merely continues. Then we believe that everything could have been different, but it could not have, and so we rush into springtime, so as not to think about nonexistent beginnings or unpleasant continuations. — Mesa Selimovic

Maybe it's better to adhere to the standards of heaven than to those of this world. Failure doesn't upset you, since you can always rely on eternity; you find your justifications in reasons beyond yourself. Personal loss is less important. And pain. And men. And the present day. Everything continues into eternity, faceless and vast, sleepily torpid and solemnly indifferent. Like the sea: it cannot lament the innumerable deaths that continually occur in it. — Mesa Selimovic

I remembered the verses and recited them slowly, with a pleasure that I had not felt before. I heard them as a soft whisper, harmless, without dark overtones:
Bareheaded and barefoot, Shahin the acrobat
stepped onto the tightrope, over which
the breeze alone passes without fear.
Shahin, the falcon, feared no danger,
asked for God's help and crossed over to the other bank.
And the little falcons, his apprentices,
passed over the chasm.
Above the water, on which the sun glistened,
they looked like pearls
strung on a thin thread.
The deep gorge beneath them,
the distant heavens above them.
And they on the unsteady tightrope,
on the dangerous path of life. — Mesa Selimovic

What is the purpose of piety if there are no temptations to resist? Man is not God, his strength is the ability to restrain his own nature, so I thought, and if he has nothing to restrain, then what are his merits? — Mesa Selimovic

Your dervish trade is strange. You sell words, which people buy out of fear or habit. He doesn't want to, or doesn't know how to sell words. He can't even sell silence. Or talent. And he doesn't care about success. — Mesa Selimovic

People in fact talk most often for their own sake, and with a need to hear the echo of their words. — Mesa Selimovic

Bismilahir-rahmanir-rahim!
I call to witness the ink, the quill, and the script,
which flows from the quill;
I call to witness the faltering shadows of the sinking evening,
the night and all she enlivens;
I call to witness the moon when she waxes, and the sunrise when it dawns.
I call to witness the Resurrection Day and the soul that accuses itself;
I call to witness time, the beginning and end of all things - to witness that every man always suffers loss. — Mesa Selimovic

One might conclude that only clever people remain free, but it's not so: foolish men also remain free if they know how to hide their folly. And the clever ones are locked away if they show their cleverness. The others who remain free are those who have the right to be whatever they want. My brother was a nobody, a happy man, not clever enough to be feared and not foolish enough for no one to know what he might do; he was too cowardly to be an outlaw, too naive to be bad, too lazy to be someone's enemy. In a word, he was destined by divine providence to be greeted by people without respect, to be recognized for his value without being asked to show it. — Mesa Selimovic

He examined everything freely, I hesitated in front of many things. He destroyed but did not build, saying what was not, but not what was. And denial is convincing; it sets neither boundaries nor goals for itself. It strives toward nothing; it defends nothing. It is harder to defend something than to attack it, because everything that is made reality constantly wears down, constantly deviates from the initial idea. — Mesa Selimovic

Life is larger than any principle. Morality is an idea, but life is what we live. How can we fit it into this idea without damaging it? More lives have been ruined in attempts to prevent sin than because of sin itself."
"Should we live in sin then?"
"No. But prohibiting it doesn't help at all. It creates hypocrisy and spiritual cripples."
"So what should we do?"
"I don't know. — Mesa Selimovic

He spoke about cognition."
"Is that all you know? Don't you remember anything?"
"I remember the verses he interpreted."
"Whose verses?"
"I don't know."
"Let me hear."
"Ahriman knows not
The secret of God's unity.
Ask Asaf, he knows.
Can a sparrow swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird?
'Can a single jug take in
The waters of a great sea?'"
"Those are the verses of Ibn Arabi.They say that the perception of God's wisdom is possible only for the chosen, only for a few."
"And what remains for us?"
"To comprehend what we can. If a sparrow cannot swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird, it will still eat as much as it can. You cannot scoop up the whole sea with a jug, but whatever you scoop up is also the sea. — Mesa Selimovic

I did not know why, maybe because he had suffered and gained experience in his distress; because his rebellion had freed him from established ways of thinking that bind us, and he had no prejudices; because he had purged himself of fear and taken a path that led nowhere; because he was already condemned and was only delaying his death heroically. Such people know a lot, more than those of us who stagger from learned rules to fear of sin, from habits to worries of possible guilt. And although I would never have taken the path of a renegade, not even in my thoughts, I would gladly have listened to his truth. But what was his truth? — Mesa Selimovic

Everything is possible but I can't see a solution. If you become an outlaw then you'll commit violence, so how could you be angry with them? If you come to hate them, you'll be poisoned by your ill will unless you act against them, and against yourself, since you're the same as they are, and they'll catch you again. You might as well commit suicide. If you forget, you might make up for it somehow, thinking that you're generous. But they'll think that you're a coward and a hypocrite, and they won't believe you. You'll be excluded in any case, and that's what you cannot accept. The only possible solution would be this: for nothing to have happened — Mesa Selimovic

I caught myself feeling that vile need for others to be grateful to us, to show themselves as small and dependent, because that is what creates our favor, nurtures it, and heightens the importance of our deeds and kindness. — Mesa Selimovic

I'm bad without personal benefit, and good only when I'm irresponsible. Sort of a sinful angel, an immoral virgin, an honest criminal. — Mesa Selimovic