أن الشرق قد ترك على وجهه ذات يوم, عطر هذه المرأة, وأنه كان يحبها حتى قبل أن يعرف انها على الأرض, وان الحب الذي يكنه لهاسوف يمكنه من اكتشاف أسرار العالم جميعا

He had a method of accepting things, without questioning the why and wherefore. 

You go from dream to dream inside me. You have passage to my last shabby corner, and there, among the debris, you’ve found life. I’m no longer sure which of all the words, images, dreams or ghosts are ‘yours’ and which are ‘mine.’ It’s past sorting out.

Written By Thomas Pynchon

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