Under the broken promises of superpowers and under the worlds indifference to spilled Arab blood.

For I'll keep my humanity, though I did not keep my promises. ... and Love shall not be wrested from my veins.

I know she is crying. Her tears fall on the wrong side, into the bottomless well inside her.

The land and everything on it can be taken away, but no one can take away your knowledge or the degrees you earn

Do you know, Mother, that Haj Salem was buried alive in his home? Does he tell you stories in heaven now? I wish I had had a chance to meet him. To see his toothless grin and touch his leathery skin. To beg him, as you did in your youth, for a story from our Palestine. He was over one hundred years old, Mother. To have lived so long, only to be crushed to death by a bulldozer. Is this what it means to be Palestinian?

the reverse side of love is unbearable loss.

I watch life trickle from the bullet wound of a sixteen-year-old "example" and marvel how things weak, even words, will turn vicious and merciless to gain power,despite reason or history