“Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories...they're the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, loss and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Only the details are different. ”
“What folly made young people, even those in middle age, think they were immortal? How much better, their lives, if they could remember the end. Carrying your death with you every day would make it hard to waste time on unkindness and anger and bitterness, on anything petty. That was the secret: remembering your dying time, in order to keep the stupid and the ugly out of your living time.”
“The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.”
“There's only one way to defeat the sorrow and sadness of life - with laughter and rejoicing. Bring out the good dishes, put on your good clothes, no sense hoarding them.”
“Curious, he thought, how, if you knew a person long enough, he could elicit every kind of emotion from you, every possible reaction, envy, admiration, pity, irritation, fury, fondness, jealousy, love, disgust. But in the end all human beings became candidates for compassion, all of us, without exception...and if we could recognize this from the beginning, what a saving in pain and grief and misery.”
“Black money is so much a part of our white economy, a tumour in the centre of the brain - try to remove it and you kill the patient.”
“If you ignore little things, they become big problems.”
“Depression is a red herring," said Nariman. "I think a lot about the past, it's true. But at my age, the past is more present than the here and now. and there is not much percentage in the future.”
“The photographs had made him aware how much the street and the buildings meant to him. Like an extended family that he’d taken for granted and ignored, assuming it would always be there. But buildings and roads and spaces were as fragile as human beings, you had to cherish them while you had them.”
“ Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories - your life, my life, old Husain's life, they're the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different.”
“Hell has ways of permeating heaven’s membrane.”
“When a culture vansihes, humanity is the loser.”
“The bhel-puri stall was a sculptured landscape with its golden pyramid of sev, the little snow mountains of mumra, hillocks of puris, and, in among their valleys, in aluminium containers, pools of green and brown and red chutneys.”
“Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories – your life, my life, old Husain’s life, they’re the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different.”
“this was an outstanding family subject in our real life.”
“The joy and laughter and youth they brought was an antidote to the somberness enveloping his flat, the hours when he felt the very walls and ceilings were encrusted with the distress of of unhappy decades”
“When a culture vanishes, humanity is the loser.”
“Hell has ways of permeating heaven's membrane.”
“I wanted to trust him with the best of me, the worst of me, and everything in between.”
“His weekly golf game no longer keeps his love handles in check, he's recently resorted to a slight comb-over to cover that growing bald spot, he squints to avoid wearing the bifocals he hides in his desk drawer, and he spends his days in an office filled with decades-old sports trophies.”
“I'm out of here, Bronagh. I'm sorry, but this is too much to deal with." With that said, he turned and stormed away. I was wide-eyed, and stared after him. "Gavin, wait, please-" "Don't!" Dominic's face was in mine and growling. "Don't call after him. He isn't man enough if he doesn't want to fight for you.”
“The Conservative may ask the following questions: If words and their meaning can be manipulated or ignored to advance the Statist’s political and policy preferences, what then binds allegiance to the Statist’s words? Why should today’s law bind future generations if yesterday’s law does not bind this generation? Why should judicial precedent bind the nation if the Constitution itself does not? Why should any judicial determination based on a judge’s notion of what is “right” or “just” bind the individual if the individual believes the notion is wrong and unjust? Does not lawlessness beget lawlessness? Or is not the Statist really saying that the law is what he says it is, and that is the beginning and end of it? And if judges determine for society what is right and just, and if their purpose is to spread democracy or liberty, how can it be said that the judiciary is coequal with the executive or legislative branch?”
“Well, we have to remember that this whole band thing was kind of thrown together at the last minute. We hadn’t even picked a name yet.” Sasha started talking into a headset, and suddenly the house lights dimmed. The curtains opened to reveal the first act, which was a seventh-grade rap group dressed in fuzzy dog costumes. They were performing the song “Who Let the Dogs Out?” I hoped it was supposed to be a comedy act. “This is SO unfair!” Chloe groaned. “There has to be something we can do!” Zoey moaned. “That’s showbiz!” Violet said sarcastically. Sasha shot us a dirty look and covered the mic on her headset. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to put on a show here. Take it out in the hall. Please!” We sighed and slowly shuffled out of the dark auditorium. Then the five of us threw a private pity party for Dorkalicious. Everyone looked SO disappointed. It was heartbreaking.”
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