Quotes from Salman Rushdie

Ngôn ng? là sá»± can ??m: chúng ta hình thành nó t? trong ý nghÄ©, nói nó ra và làm Ä'úng nhÆ° v?y ?? bi?n nó thành sá»± th?t.

Maybe the little sahib is copying us—blinking when we blink." And Amina: "We'll blink in turn and watch.

When you have earned the high horizon it isn't easy to go back into your box, into a narrow island, an eternity of anticlimax.

When he sipped the champagne she teased him, surely gods should not partake of alcohol, and he answered with a line he had once read in an interview with the Aga Khan, O, you know, this champagne is only for outward show, the moment it touches my lips it turns to water. After that it didn't take long for her to touch his lips and deliquesce into his arms.

From the moment their pact is made, that devil's contract that will make neither of them happy, there's no stopping them. At the epicenter of the American earthquake that is VTO lies this very Oriental disorientation. Abstinence: it becomes their rocket fuel, and flies them to the stars.

We have the freedoms we fight for, and we lose those we don't defend.

When you write, you write out of your best self. Everything else drops away.

some fortunate patients could enter the OO (or Optimal Outcome) group whose members no longer showed any of the symptoms of autistic disorder

The trouble with the English is their history happened overseas, so they don't know what it means. The secret if a dinner party in London is to outnumber the English, if they're outnumbered they behave, otherwise you're in trouble.

The story of ten-year engagement and of Ormus' consequent oath of celibacy spreads quickly; and this, too, makes Ormus and Vina irresistible. The new band takes off almost at once, and the force of its ascending shakes the land. Starting at oddities, ther grow quickly into giants. At once conqueror and celebrant, Ormus storms the citadels of rock, and Vina's voice, as Yul Singh oversaw, is his weapon. Her voice is the servant of his melodies, his singing the servant of her voice.

Unfortunately life has a way of sidetracking one's greatest ambitions. Painters, would-be artists, end up whitewashing walls. Sculptors are forced to design toilets. Writers become critics or publicists. Archaeologists, like myself, can become gravediggers.

You be respectable, sister," she said, "Me, I'll be alive.

Ellos hasta le contaban sus sueños, aunque muy pocos soñaban más de una vez al mes, porque eran muy pobres para permitirse esos lujos.

The native is an oppressed person whose permanent dream is to become the persecutor. — Fanon

All of us are in two stories at the same time,' said the sandwich lady. 'Life and Times. There is our own personal story, and the bigger story of what's happening around us. When both are in trouble simultaneously, when the crisis inside you intersects with the crisis outside you, things get a little crazy.

The more I see of the West, he says, the more I realize that the best things in life come from the East.

She has lost her city eyes. Who you have city eyes you cannot see the invisible people.

How does newness come into the world? How is it born? Of what fusions, translations, conjoining is it made? How does it survive, extreme and dangerous as it is? What compromises, what deals, what betrayals of its secret nature must it make to stave off the wrecking crew, the exterminating angel, the guillotine? Is birth always a fall? Do angels have wings? Can men fly?

Construction work was the art of making the city become aware of itself as a fragile organism at the mercy of forces against which there was no appeal.

Things – even people – have a way of leaking into each other,' I explain, 'like flavours when you cook. Ilse Lubin's suicide, for example, leaked into old Aadam and sat there in a puddle until he saw God.

Anyone in the vicinity of a dying man was utterly at his mercy. Punches delivered from a deathbed left bruises that never faded.

Saladin had been seized by the melancholy notion that the garden had been a better place before he knew its names, that something had been lost which he would never be able to regain.

I should have known: no escape from past acquaintance. What you were is forever who you are.

He had been reborn into the knowledge of death; and the inescapability of change, of things-never-the-same, of no-way-back, made him afraid. When you lose the past you're naked in front of contemptuous Azraeel, the death-angel. Hold on if you can, he told himself. Cling to yesterdays. Leave your nail-marks in the grey slope as you slide.