阿卜杜勒拉扎克·古爾納
殖民與移民的深刻描繪者
To write is to resist the erasure of history.
寫作就是抵抗歷史的抹去。
The wound of displacement never fully heals; it only learns to speak in different tongues.
流離失所的傷口永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)完全愈合；它只是學(xué)會(huì)了用不同的語言說話。
Silence is not always absence; sometimes it is the loudest presence.
沉默并不總是缺席；有時(shí)它是最響亮的存在。
We carry our homelands within us, even as we leave them behind.
即使我們把家園拋在身后，我們?nèi)匀话阉鼈儙г谛睦铩?/div>
The sea remembers what the land forgets.
大海記得陸地遺忘的東西。
Stories are the way we make sense of the chaos of existence.
To be unhomed is not to be homeless, but to have your home always in question.
無家可歸并不是沒有家，而是讓你的家永遠(yuǎn)處于疑問之中。
The past is always with us, for it feeds the present.
過去總是與我們同在，因?yàn)樗甜B(yǎng)著現(xiàn)在。
Exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience.
Memory is the only paradise from which we cannot be driven.
The books we read are as important as the friends we keep.
我們讀的書和我們交的朋友一樣重要。
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