Wild are, in practice,
To be drunk on alcohol is disgraceful, but to be drunk on water is noble and ecstatic.
Ineluctably.
If you’re going to be religious, you must be either a Hindu, a Christian or a Muslim. You heard what they said on the esplanade. I don’t see why I can’t be all three. Mamaji has two passports. He’s In...
And inverted though it is, it will hang a man nonetheless if he’s not careful.
Zonder gekte zou geen enkele soort kunnen overleven.
You bring joy and pain in equal measure- come aboard if your destination is oblivion. It should be our next stop. We can sit together. You can have the window seat, if you want. But it's a sad view.
You already are, Piscine--in your heart. Whoever meets Christ in good faith is a Christian. Here in Munnar you met Christ.
Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?
When I corrected her, I told her that in fact she was not so wrong; that Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are...
We came to the zebras. Mr. Kumar had never heard of such creatures, let alone seen one. He was dumbfounded.They’re called zebras, I said.Have they been painted with a brush?No, no. They look like that...
We are random animals. That is who we are, and we have only ourselves, nothing more--there is no greater relationship.
We are cynical about our own species, but less so about animals, especially wild ones. We might not shelter them from habitat destruction, but we do tend to shelter them from excessive irony.
We are all born like Catholics, aren't we—in limbo, without religion, until some figure introduces us to God?
To me, religion is about our dignity, not our depravity. I stopped attending Mass at Our Lady of Immaculate Conception and went instead to Our Lady of Angels. I no longer lingered after Friday prayer...
To look out with idle hope is tantamount to dreaming one’s life away.
Time is an illusion that only makes us pant. I survived because I forgot even the very notion of time. Page 212.
Thus set up, pen in hand, for the sake of greater truth, I would turn Portugal into a fiction. That’s what fiction is about, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to brin...
Things didn't turn out the way they were supposed to, but what can you do? You must take life the way it comes at you and make the best of it.
They were like curmudgeonly old friends who would never admit that they liked me yet came round to see me all the time. The