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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #youth
سماعاً بني العرب الاكرمين ... اُباة التواني حماة الذمم أفيقوا فمن نام عن حقه... عراه الأذى ولواه العدم رعى الله شعباً يريد العلى... ويطلبها تحت خفق العلم إذا لم نقم قومة حرة... ونرجع عهدا طواه القدم فأين الفخار الذي ندعي... وأين الإباء وأين الكرم فتى الشعر هذا مجال قرير... فنادي الإباء ونادي الشيم ونادي الشباب كبار النفوس... ونادي الشباب عماد الأمم فلا أمل اليوم إلا بهم... لأن الشباب عماد الأمم وقل لبني العُرب لا تيأسوا... فإن الهموم ستحُي الهمم وإن المقام على الضيم عار... ولا يغسل العار إلا بدم ولابد من نهضة للعلى...بها ترفع العرب ذاك العلم ↗
In a moment, when I throw myself down among the absinthe plants to bring their scent into my body, I shall know, appearances to the contrary, that I am fulfilling a truth which is the sun's and which will also be my death's. In a sense, it is indeed my life that I am staking here, a life that tastes of warm stone, that is full of the signs of the sea and the rising song of the crickets. The breeze is cool and the sky blue. I love this life with abandon and wish to speak of it boldly: it makes me proud of my human condition. Yet people have often told me: there's nothing to be proud of. Yes, there is: this sun, this sea, my heart leaping with youth, the salt taste of my body and this vast landscape in which tenderness and glory merge in blue and yellow. It is to conquer this that I need my strength and my resources. Everything here leaves me intact, I surrender nothing of myself, and don no mask: learning patiently and arduously how to live is enough for me, well worth all their arts of living. ↗
Think... of the world which you carry within yourself... and set it above everything that you notice about you. Your inmost happening is worth your whole love, that is what you must somehow work at, and not loose too much time and too much courage in explaining your attitude to people. ↗
I envied these women I saw before me, their beauty still intact. Life has its revenge of life. Untimely death is the secret of eternal youth. ↗
It is in the twenties that the actual momentum of life begins to slacken, and it is a simple soul indeed to whom as many things are significant and meaningful at thirty as at ten years before. At thirty an organ-grinder is a more or less moth-eaten man who grinds an organ — and once he was an organ-grinder! The unmistakable stigma of humanity touches all those impersonal and beautiful things that only youth ever grasps in their impersonal glory. A brilliant ball, gay with light romantic laughter, wears through its own silks and satins to show the bare framework of a man-made thing — oh, that eternal hand!— a play, most tragic and most divine, becomes merely a succession of speeches, sweated over by the eternal plagiarist in the clammy hours and acted by men subject to cramps, cowardice, and manly sentiment. ↗
