If A Writer Doesn't Generate

The Melancholy Thing About The World Is That It Is Full Of Stupid People; And The World Is Run For The Benefit Of The Stupid And Common.

Look, Boys, It Ever Strike You That The World Not Real At All? It Ever Strike You That We Have The Only Mind In The World And You Just Thinking Up Everything Else? Like Me Here, Having The Only Mind In The World, And Thinking Up You People Here, Thinking Up The War And All The Houses And The Ships And Them In The Harbour. That Ever Cross Your Mind?

In A Way My Reputation Has Become That Of The Curmudgeon.

We Made No Inquiries About India Or About The Families People Had Left Behind. When Our Ways Of Thinking Had Changed, And We Wished To Know, It Was Too Late. I Know Nothing Of The People On My Father's Side; I Know Only That Some Of Them Came From Nepal

It Isn't That There's No Right And Wrong Here. There's No Right.