The multitude of the curious and the offended descends upon him.
Truly I am in a sacred cosmic womb, a place where everything is born, and it is my sweet luck to behold its living core. My hands naturally come together in reverent worship.
So I flew to Bombay. This is not so illogical if you realize three things: that a stint in India will beat the restlessness out of any living creature; that a little money can go a long way there; and that a novel set in Portugal in 1939 may have very little to do with Portugal in 1939. I.
What if his words had the effect of polio on me? WHat a terrible disease that must be if it could kill God in a man.
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 bring out its essence? What need did I have to go to Portugal? The.
Time became distance for me in the way it is for all mortals.
HIs life was always a happenstance.
As far as he can tell, that’s what Odo spends most of his time doing: being in time, like one sits by the river, watching the water go by. It’s a lesson hard learned, just to sit there and be.
Agama bukan sekadar ritual dan tata cara. Ada makna di balik ritual dan tata cara itu.
Do you see the invisible spirals on the margins of the page? I thought I would run out of paper. It was the pens that ran out.
When I was your age, I lived in bed, racked with polio. I asked myself every day, ‘Where is God? Where is God? Where is God?’ God never came. It wasn’t God who saved me – it was medicine. Reason is my prophet and it tells me that as a watch stops, so we die. It’s the end. If the watch doesn’t work properly, it must be fixed here and now by us.
Oncoming death is terrible enough, but worse still is oncoming death with time to spare, time in which all the happiness that was yours and all the happiness that might have been yours becomes clear to you. You see with utter lucidity all that you are losing. The sight brings on an oppressive sadness that no car about to hit you or water about to drown you can match. The feeling is truly unbearable.
Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?
To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you. It is like losing – I’m sorry, I would rather not go on.
Look: Christ on the Cross died of suffocation, but His only complaint was of thirst. If thirst can be so taxing that even God Incarnate complains about it, imagine the effect on a regular human. It.
So I drifted. Winds and currents decided where I went. Time became distance for me in the way it is for all mortals – I travelled down the road of life – and I did other things with my fingers than try to measure latitude.
You speak with warm marbles in your mouth. You have an Indian accent.
Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe?” “We’re just being reasonable.” “So am I! I applied my reason at every moment. Reason is excellent for getting food, clothing and shelter. Reason is the very best tool kit. Nothing beats reason for keeping tigers away. But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater.
Be daunted, but not defeated.
It was my first clue that atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak speaks of faith. Like.