Rabih Alameddine quotes:

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  • The Lebanese Civil War, 1975-1990, spanned four World Cups. It would have been a more symmetrical five had the Lebanese begun in 1974, but you know, we're Mediterranean, and timing isn't our forte.

  • A soccer game is a Wagner opera. The narrative sets up, the tension builds, the music ebbs and flows, the strings, the horns, more tension, and suddenly a moment of pure bliss, trumpet-tongued Gabriel sings, and gods descend from Olympus to dance - this peak of ecstasy.

  • The relationship between France and its 'foreign' players - blacks and North African Arabs - has always been troubled, particularly with Algerians.

  • If I were to pray in Arabic, I'd pray to Allah. If I were to pray in English, I'd pray to God.

  • In Lebanon, there are completely different opinions and values in one country in terms of religion, modernity, tradition, East and West - which allows for a kind of intellectual development not available anywhere else.

  • When the Lebanese Civil War started in 1975, I was 15. I was shipped to boarding school in England and, after that, to UCLA.

  • In school in Lebanon, we were not allowed to speak Arabic during breaks - it had to be French or English.

  • I've never had a problem finding a team, a league, or a pickup game. Actually, I'm not sure I want soccer to get bigger. We have so many teams in San Francisco that there aren't enough fields.

  • I jokingly say if there was one great thing about, you know, the Lebanese Civil War was that it forced me to read.

  • In 1975, I left the burning city of Beirut for the quiet insanity of England. To say that short, frail and wispy 15-year-old me didn't fit in would be such an understatement as to be a joke.

  • Now I love hoops. I'm a diehard UCLA fan, have been since my freshman year. But basketball is the '1812 Overture.' Pomp and circumstance, fireworks and cannons, lots and lots of fun, and in the end, still Tchaikovsky.

  • I know many sports fans that don't enjoy soccer. The argument is that there's no action, not enough of it.

  • By nature, a storyteller is a plagiarist. Everything one comes across--each incident, book, novel, life episode, story, person, news clip--is a coffee bean that will be crushed, ground up, mixed with a touch of cardamom, sometimes a tiny pinch of salt, boiled thrice with sugar, and served as a piping-hot tale.

  • My father loved Brazilian football, a diehard follower, so of course, he hated Germany and always rooted against them, always.

  • A player should be disparaged if he gives less than his all, if he doesn't give 100%, no matter what shirt he's wearing. Whether it's your national team, your club, or little league. Yes, there are friendly matches, recreational ones, and so on, but sport in its essence is about giving your best.

  • One of the things I enjoy most during the World Cup is watching a team improve, mature, and gel during the course of the tournament.

  • All living languages are promiscuous. We promiscuous speakers shamelessly shoplift words, plucking bons mots and phrases from any tempting language. We wear these words when we wish to be more formal, more elegant, more mysterious, worldly, precise, vague.

  • I loved problems on paper, and I was good at math, but I was a mechanical engineer, and I never understood - or cared to - how a car worked.

  • Nobody ever said I'm a simple personality.

  • A team without hope fizzles: no flameout, no fire.

  • I get upset about what is taken as great literature and what is cute and exotic.

  • Language, after all, is organic. You can't force words into existence. You can't force new meanings into words. And some words can't or won't or shouldn't be laundered or neutered. Language develops naturally.

  • A game of soccer induces more than enjoyment, more than entertainment.

  • Nobody ever calls me a soccer-playing writer, even though I play soccer and it's part of who I am.

  • I can make up stories with the best of them. I've been telling stories since I was a little kid.

  • I gave up on the delusion that these players enjoy soccer as much as I do, that they play for the love of the game.

  • No one needs to be reminded of racism in soccer: the xenophobia, the nativism and, yes, nationalism.

  • What happens is of little significance compared with the stories we tell ourselves about what happens. Events matter little, only stories of events affect us.

  • In the summer of 1988, my father took me up to look at the remains of our home, the dream house that he'd built. It was my first time since our family left four years earlier. Political and obscene graffiti covered the half-torn walls. There was no ceiling and surprisingly no floor: the parquet, the stone, the marble, all looted.

  • English has always had a special fondness for other European languages, a neighborly soft spot - perhaps because Britain has been invaded by speakers of those languages from the onset of its recorded history.

  • Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time. It is the world outside that box that gives me trouble. I have adapted tamely, though not conventionally, to this visible world so I can retreat without much inconvenience into my inner world of books. (p. 5)

  • I never wanted to be prominent enough to have enemies.

  • No nostalgia is felt as keenly as nostalgia for things that never existed.

  • Had I known that coffee could taste so good, I would have gotten drunk on it every day.

  • I wonder if being sane means disregarding the chaos that is life, pretending only an infinitesimal segment of it is reality.

  • How can I expect readers to know who I am if I do not tell them about my family, my friends, the relationships in my life? Who am I if not where I fit in the world, where I fit in the lives of the people dear to me?

  • There are two kinds of people in this world: people who want to be desired, and people who want to be desired so much that they pretend they don't.

  • Memory chooses to preserve what desire cannot hope to sustain.

  • Fate would never permit happiness to a man of such talent-a content poet is a mediocre one, a happy poet is insufferable.

  • I wonder whether there is such a thing as a sense of individuality. Is it all a facade, covering a deep need to belong? Are we simply pack animals desperately trying to pretend we are not?

  • I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time.

  • In 1982, Algeria made their first appearance at the World Cup. I believe it was the first Arab country to do so.

  • I allegedly am an outsider writer, so I write from the perspective of somebody who doesn't completely fit in. But at the same time, I can state the fact that I don't know of any good writer who is not an outsider writer.

  • A phoenix, Beirut seems to always pull itself out its ashes, reinvents itself, has been conquered numerous times in its 7,000-year history, yet it survives by both becoming whatever its conquerors wished it to be and retaining its idiosyncratic persona.

  • I stuck out more in an English public school than I would have had I marched in a May Day parade with the Red Army in Moscow or sashayed the Yves St. Laurent catwalk with supermodels or hunted seals with the Inuit or - well, you get the idea.

  • Harat' is actually - it's a Lebanese dialect word. It comes from 'the mapmaker,' somebody who makes a map. And it basically means somebody who tells fibs or exaggerate tales a little bit.

  • Whenever I come across an Arabic word mired in English text, I am momentarily shocked out of the narrative.

  • My father and I rarely saw eye to eye when I was growing up. We saw the world differently. It was only when we were both adults that we were able to share spectacles. However, football, and particularly the World Cup, was when we, enemy combatants, could traverse trenches and be together.

  • I always say show me a storyteller who doesn't embellish, and I'll show you a bad one.

  • I always assumed that everyone knew no country would ever be awarded a World Cup without pricey gifts exchanging hands under the tables.

  • When I wrote my first book, 'Koolaids,' I felt rejected and not wanted.

  • I started writing half a paragraph of a mystery novel, half a paragraph there, and they were terrible.

  • I oscillate between being cynical and being naive on a regular basis. I always think that not much shocks me until something much too obvious does.

  • I think I'm being conservative when I say there are more people playing soccer in the United States than in 90% of the world's other countries, probably 95%.

  • ...What happens is of little significance compared with the stories we tell ourselves about what happens. Events matter little, only stories of events affect us.

  • By remaining constrained in one's environment or country or family, one has little chance of being other than the original prescription. By leaving, one gains a perspective, a distance of both space and time, which is essential for writing about family or home, in any case.

  • I believe one has to escape oneself to discover oneself.

  • I opened myself to you only to be skinned alive. The more vulnerable I became, the faster and more deft your knife. Knowing what was happening, still I stayed and let you carve more. That's how much I loved you. That's how much.

  • Is life less thrilling if your neighbors are rational, if they don't bomb your power stations whenever they feel you need to be admonished? Is it less rousing if they don't rattle your windows and nerves with indiscriminate sonic booms just because they can?

  • Me? I was lost for long time. I didn't make any friends for few years. You can say I made friends with two trees, two big trees in the middle of the school ["¦]. I spent all my free time up in those trees. Everyone called me Tree Boy for the longest time. ["¦]. I preferred trees to people. After that I preferred pigeons, but it was trees first.

  • Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one's wall, even if only for a moment, a moment before one immures oneself again.

  • The eye always fills in the imperfections.

  • What is the purpose of a city if not to grant the greatest of gifts, anonymity?

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