Quotes by Tahar ben Jelloun

Pain, too, comes from depths that cannot be revealed. We do not know whether those depths are in ourselves or elsewhere, in a graveyard, in a scarcely dug grave, only recently inhabited by withered flesh. This truth, which is banal enough, unravels time and the face, holds up a mirror to me in which I cannot see myself without being overcome by a profound sadness that undermines ones whole being. The mirror has become the route through which my body reaches that state, in which it is crushed into the ground, digs a temporary grave, and allows itself to be drawn by the living roots that swarm beneath the stones. It is flattened beneath the weight of that immense sadness which few people have the privilege of knowing. So I avoid mirrors.

I have at least the whole of my life to answer a question: Who am I? And who is the other? A gust of wind at dawn? A motionless landscape? A trembling leaf? A coil of white smoke above a mountain? I write all these words and I hear the wind, not outside, but inside my head. A strong wind, it rattles the shutters through which I enter the dream.

Did my father talk to me? Its true, he didnt say a lot to me, but I knew what had to be done. No need for big speeches. He taught me the fundamentals of our religion: My son, Islam is simple: you are alone responsible for yourself before God, so if you are good, you will find goodness in the afterlife, and if you are bad, youll find that instead. Theres no mystery: everything depends on how you treat people, especially the weak, the poor, so Islam, that means you pray, you address the Creator and dont do evil around you, dont lie, dont steal, dont betray your wife or your country, dont kill- but do I really need to remind you of this?

Man is more noble dead than alive, because in returning to the earth he becomes earth, and nothing is nobler than the earth that entombs us, closes our eyes, and blossoms in a beautiful eterneity.

But youll see, you can feel time on the wind it whips up as it passes. We dont worry about time or the wind. Nothing can touch us any more. As long as people remember us, we are here. Anyway, its the wind that tells us, lets us know about the thigs weve left behind.