Extraits de Livre
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- Prologue – Ephesus, city of duality!
- Ephesus! City of duality. Home to both the Temple of Artemis and the holy House of Mother Mary. The city which embodies both the ego and the soul. The epitome of vanity and humility. The personification of enslavement and freedom. Ephesus! The city in which opposites intertwine. The city which is as human as every living soul.
- Mary’s letter to her father – Reclaiming one's rose
- Dear Dad,
I have to leave home today.
You must be wondering why...
Yesterday, after so many years, I read St. Exupéry’s Little Prince again. The book seems to have changed completely! The only thing that hasn’t changed is that the rose is still my favorite character. And the fox, of course; because it is he who teaches the little prince how to become responsible for his rose.
At last, I think I’m also beginning to understand what “being responsible for a rose” means. And that’s the reason why I’m leaving.
At the end of the book, Exupéry urges us to ask ourselves, “Has the sheep eaten the rose, yes or no?” He says the answer to this question changes everything.
So I ask myself a similar question:
“Have Others stolen my rose, yes or no?”
Exupéry was right; the answer to this changes everything. But I know that no grownup will ever understand why.
I’m leaving because my answer to this question is “yes.”
I’m leaving to reclaim my rose... - Diana’s letter to her mother - The Rose of Ephesus
- The story is about a rose, Mom. The Rose of Ephesus… A rose that is created with a divine scent. This scent has a voice of its own. A voice of happiness. It speaks of dreams. It speaks of angels and it speaks of meeting God in this world.
But as the rose grows, she begins to hear another voice; a voice which she mistakes for her own, a voice which says, “me” all the time. It is loud. So loud that the rose can no longer hear her original voice.
The rose needs to take care of her scent in order to hear this voice again. But she is planted in a place where people don't love her for her scent. They are only concerned with her color, her stem and her petals...
So, in the hope of earning their love, she fashions herself into what others want her to be. People say, “grow higher”, so she grows higher. People say, “shine up your petals,” so she does it in a silent rush. And before long, out of neglect, her scent fades away.
Having shaped her, people shower praises on her as if she were a goddess, and soon the rose starts believing that she is one. She doesn’t realize that the only thing she needs to feel special is to recall that she is a rose. Nothing great. Just a rose…
With each day that passes, she finds herself becoming more and more unhappy. There remains only one happiness in her life. Her mother. But, at a time she begins to discover her, at a time she needs her most, she loses her forever. Or so she thinks… - Zeynep Hanım - On perseverance
- “Imagine a mountain… From the top of this mountain, the view is wonderful. You want to be there, but the summit seems so far away that you lose hope of reaching it. You give up, saying, ‘I'll never get there.’
“The truth is, the footsteps of the ones who reached the top were no bigger than yours. But they’d just gone on putting those small footsteps one after the other. It’s not miracles which make the impossible happen, it’s perseverance. This is how water wears away rocks; this is how the people of the 21st century hear roses sing.” - The Moth – Rebellion against perpetual darkness
- All that was left of the moth which had been flying around the room was a slight haze of smoke around the lamp and a faint smell of burning. Looking at the wisp of smoke, Diana wondered what had driven the moth to throw herself into the light.
She must have followed an instinctive call to fly away from the dark. The urgency with which she flew must have been a rebellion against the gloom that enveloped her. A rebellion against uncertainty. She’d chosen to melt away in the fire instead of flying a lifetime in perpetual darkness. - Yellow Flower – Love versus admiration
- “At that time, we couldn’t foresee the disaster this situation would lead us to. Soon after Those-like-Mary had all gone, little by little, we began to metamorphose into what Others valued, in the hope of earning their love. And because it was only our external features that they'd valued, we became more and more concerned with our looks. We strove to stand up straight like the artificial roses, we tried to extend the time our leaves stayed on us. We didn’t even weep during emotional times so our petals wouldn’t become wrinkled. And soon, out of neglect to preserve it, our scent started to fade away.
“We fashioned ourselves to meet the expectations of Others, taking one shape after another. We re-toned our colors, one tone after another. Others said, “Grow higher”, so we grew higher. They said, “Orient yourselves this direction and that,” so we did in a silent rush. First they were shaping us the way they liked then showering praises on us.
“But, in spite of all this, deep inside we felt we weren’t being loved. Only those who were interested in our scent could really love us. Because it is its scent which makes a rose a rose. The feeling Others had for us could only be admiration at best. - Miriam Rose – Empty pride
- “Do you remember how those who came flocking to you on sunny days, began, one by one, to desert you when autumn came? And in the depths of winter, there was no-one at your side. Your pride only deepened your loneliness, and you couldn’t even weep because of that empty pride of yours. The higher their praises had raised you in spring, the greater the fall you had to face in autumn. The change in the weather instantly knocked you down…
“I’m sorry, my friend, but those who are fervently devoted to you, will desert you one day. Because it’s not you they worship, but their own passions. A day will come when their passion will find another goddess. A more beautiful, more enticing, more exalted goddess! Then you’ll be forgotten. And because you owe your existence to their praises, once you’re forgotten, you’ll cease to exist.” - Miriam Rose - Being a rose
- “I’m nothing great. But I’m a rose… I’m a rose whether I’m admired or not, I’m a rose whether anyone’s crazy about me or not… Like I said, nothing great. Just a rose… But, do you know what it means to be a rose, my friend? Being a rose means ‘freedom.’ It means not existing by the praises of Others or not ceasing to exist by their disapproval."
- The Artist – "I do not know…"
- “But I don’t really know if I’ll be able to finish this project on time. And there are many other things I don’t know... If I finish the project on time, will I have enough cash for an exhibition? And if I do, will I be able to find a suitable place for it; if I do, will I be able to get permission from the relevant authorities; if I do, will I be able to afford the publicity for it; if I can, will anyone show any interest in my paintings? If they do, will that satisfy me? Even if everything goes perfectly as planned, will I be happy? If I am happy, for how long will it last? Even if it lasts a long time, will I be able to overcome the fear that some day I’ll lose it? And the list of things I can’t know goes on and on… That’s why to paint is my only goal.”
- Mary – Arrows of praise and adoration
- Others kept showering me with their arrows of praise and adoration- deadly arrows as I later realized. “You’re special, there’s no-one like you in the whole world.” As they said things like these, the sweet venom of their arrows flowed into my blood.
I still did, at times, doubt the truth of their words. I often asked myself, “Am I really special?” But since it was Others who’d made me believe this, I could not answer this question without them. It was as if the mirror of my soul was broken and I could only see myself as reflected in their words.
Worse, not to lose their approval, I felt bound to live up to their expectations. Soon, I realized that I was living the life Others had chosen for me, not the one I’d always dreamed of. - Zeynep Hanım – Hearing roses
- "First, we have to understand that we hear roses not with our ear but with our heart. At birth, everyone’s heart has this ability. But hearts grow deaf as time goes by. One who wishes to witness roses sing, must first regain this ability which is lost while we are taught to become a grownup.
"Hearing roses is easy. Very easy. All you have to do is either recall what you’ve forgotten, or forget all you’ve been taught.”