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“You know,” he tells me, “it really isn’t a bad job. Your feet hurt, but nothing else does.”

the acts which he had washed and diluted with inward argument and motive,

that pleasureless yielding to the small solicitations of circumstance, which is a commoner history of perdition than any single momentous bargain. We are on a perilous margin when we begin to look passively at our future selves, and see our own figures led with dull consent into insipid misdoing and shabby achievement. Poor Lydgate was inwardly gro

She was a part of that involuntary, palpitating life, and could neither look out on it from her luxurious shelter as a mere spectator, nor hide her eyes in selfish complaining.

Over the following days, Abdel Latif spent hours every day managing the graveyard. He traced the outlines of walkways between the graves and left plenty of space to plant trees and flowers. He wanted it to be eternal, not just a simple cemetery. He hadn’t expected that within two years it would be crowded by one thousand seven hundred graves. He ar

They had thought they would have a long time to talk during the journey. It would have been an appropriate occasion for reminiscence; after all, during his life, their father had only been able to gather his children on just such passing occasions, when a sense of duty, rather than desire, had been sufficient to corral them into the same place. The

In this country, people like to say “The page doesn’t turn after death”; the dead pass on their actions and attributes to their children and through them to their grandchildren. Everything you do is closely observed, and your official records may as well be locked behind an iron wall: impossible for any civilian to read or alter. And in one of the

He began to understand the secret of his father’s regained strength late in life: his psychic wounds all healing at once, his attitude changing, his no longer acting like a rotten fish waiting to be thrown into the nearest gutter. His eyes got back their twinkle; his body seemed to regain its youthful elegance; he started shaving again; he wore his

Hussein asked if Hamada would provide them with a written directive to the following checkpoints certifying that he knew them and requesting facilitation of their passage. Hamada laughed and informed them that his influence extended about five meters from the point where they were parked. Every squadron at every checkpoint had its own system, and s