Quotes from Salman Rushdie

Sonunda blöfünün görülmesini istemiyorsan asla ultimatom verme

Yenilgiye uÄŸram?? aÅŸk yine de bir hazinedir, aÅŸks?zl??? seçenler hiç zafer kazanmam?? demektir.

a country which would never exist except by the efforts of a phenomenal collective will—except in a dream we all agreed to dream; it was a mass fantasy shared in varying degrees by Bengali and Punjabi, Madrasi and Jat, and would periodically need the sanctification and renewal which can only be provided by rituals of blood.

The true story is there's no true story any more. There's no true any more that anyone can agree on.

I'd rather die fighting over great poets than over gods.

Some migrants are happy to depart.

In the end, rage, no matter how profoundly justified, destroys the enraged. Just as we created anew by what we love, so we are reduced and unmade by what we hate.

We are other than what we would have been if we had crossed the oceans, if or mothers and fathers had not crossed the skies in search of work and dignity and a better life for their children. We have been made again: but I say that we shall also be the ones to remake this society, to shape it from the bottom to the top.

The book has gone out into the world and the world has remade it.

Thirteen-year-old Salahuddin, setting aside recent doubts and grievances, entered once again his childish adoration of his father, because he had, had, had worshipped him, he was a great father until you started growing a mind of your own, and then to argue with him was called a betrayal of his love, but never mind that now, I accuse him of becoming my supreme being, so that what happened was like a loss of faith

Yalan iÅŸi bitince çürüyüp gidecek; Oysa gerçek büyüktür ve galip gelecek, zaferine ald?ran olsa da olmasa da.

People tend to focus on the magic more than the realism. But, like all fiction, fantasy arrives at truth via the road of untruth.

Hayat?n sunduklar?n? kavraman?n bu kavray???n doÄŸurduÄŸu sonuçlar? d??ar? yans?tmaktan kolay olmas? gibi. Bir darbe alman?n kar??l?k verip vurmaktan kolay olmas? gibi.

Faced with the possibility that evil existed, that pure malevolence had walked into my life and convinced me it was love, faced with the loss of everything I wanted from my life, I fainted. And dreamed dark dreams of blood.

Who is the madder,' Osman the clown whispered into his bullock's ear as he groomed it in its small byre, 'the madwoman, or the fool who loves the madwoman?' The bullock didn't reply. 'Maybe we should have stayed untouchable,' Osman continued. 'A compulsory ocean sounds worse than a forbidden well.' And the bullock nodded, twice for yes, boom, boom.

This leaves only two options: disintegration, or a new dictatorship ... no, there is a third, and I shall not be so pessimistic as to deny its possibility. The third option is the substitution of a new myth for the old one. Here are three such myths, all available from stock at short notice: liberty, equality, fraternity.

No, sir. A sin. A suchmuch thing.

Robert Hughes, Time magazines's art critic, told him on the phone that after he saw the planes flying over SoHo he had walked around in shock. On his way home he had stopped by a bakery and found the shelves cleaned out. Not a loaf remained, not a bagel, and the old baker standing amid the emptiness spread his arms and said, 'Should happen every day.

His father said to him: 'See now. You pay your way. I've made a man of you.' But what man That's what fathers never know. Not in advance. Not until it's too late

They fuck you up, your mum and dad? No, that wasn't it at all. Well, they did do that, perhaps, but they also allowed you to become the person, and the writer, that you had it in you to be.

learning the knack of disconnecting her sense of smell, until she could switch it off like a radio and in the bland silence of its absence could drown in the sound of Nazarébaddoor's hypnotic voice without having her reverie interrupted by the scent of sheep shit or Nazarébaddoor's own frequent and extraordinary buffalo farts.

Your whole picture of the world broke, he said, and you felt like you had gone mad. Yes. And I didn't even notice. Boys. They notice nothing.

And the most gladdening thing was the discovery that even the unforgivable crime of being one's father could be forgiven, after all, in the end.

Let's face it: it was impossible for them to have heard one another, much less conversed and also competed thus in song. Accelerating towards the planet, atmosphere roaring around them, how could they? But let's face this, too: they did.