One beach-colored. One brown. One Loved. One Loved a Little Less.
She viewed ethnic cleansing, famine and genocide as direct threats to her furniture.
Madness slunk in through a chink in History. It only took a moment.
Wars are never fought for altruistic reasons.
Humans are animals of habit.
The only dream worth having, I told her, is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you’re dead.
Here they learned to Wait. To Watch. To think thoughts and not voice them.
His gratitude widened his smile and bent his back.
Empathy may be the single most important quality that must be nurtured to give peace a fighting chance.
Fiction is the most joyous, beautiful, sophisticated, wonderful thing in the world.
He could do only one thing at a time. If he held her, he couldn’t kiss her. If he kissed her, he couldn’t see her. If he saw her, he couldn’t feel her.
I think many people were surprised by the victory of the Congress, because it was really hard to see beyond the sort of haze of hatred that the Hindu nationalists had been spreading.
Flat muscled and honey coloured. Sea secrets in his eyes. A silver raindrop in his ear.
They looked at each other. They weren’t thinking anymore. The time for that had come and gone. Smashed smiles lay ahead of them. But that would be later. Lay Ter.
It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that is purloined.
With the certitude of a true believer, Vellya Paapen had assured the twins that there was no such thing in the world as a black cat. He said that there were only black cat chaped holes in the universe.
All my books are accidental books – they come from reacting to things and thinking about things and engaging in a real way. They are not about, ‘Oh, did it get a good review in the Guardian?’ I don’t care.
When she looked at him now, she couldn’t help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.
Margaret Kochamma’s tiny, ordered life relinquished itself to this truly baroque bedlam with the quiet gasp of a warm body entering a chilly sea.
I am a Maoist sympathiser. I’m not a Maoist ideologue, because the communist movements in history have been just as destructive as capitalism.