Quotes from Rohinton Mistry

Loss is essential. Loss is part and parcel of that necessary calamity called life.

How was the rain in the city?" "Too much," said Ishvar. "Streets were flooded many times. And here?" "Too little. The devil held his umbrella over us. Let's hope he shuts it this year.

Time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

In case they don't have strawberry, which one – chocolate or vanilla?

Daughter-in-law is just a word. Call her anything you like. The hand of good fortune is not fussy about words.

He wanted his noises to touch the others; friendly noises could melt hostility.

Ishvar left the trunk he was packing on the verandah, and came in. He sat on the bed, putting his around him. You know, Maneck, the human face has limited space. My mother used to say, if you fill your face with laughing, there will be no room for crying.

Look at that crowd', he said disgustedly. 'They think it's a circus.' 'And not a single coin are they donating', said Dina. 'That's not surprising. Pity can only be shown in small doses. When so many beggars are in one place, the public goes like this' - he put his fists to his eyes, like binoculars.

People forget how vulnerable they are despite their shirts and shoes and briefcases, how this hungry and cruel world could strip them, put them in the same position as my beggars.

There were pictures from cricket matches, and the statement by the Australian captain about a bunch of Third World beggars who think they can play cricket. And then the jubilation and fireworks and celebration when the bunch of beggars defeated Australia in the Test Series.

One day you must tell me your full and complete story, unabridged and unexpurgated. You must. We will set aside some time for it, and meet. It's very important. Maneck smiled. Why is it important? Mr. Valmik's eyes grew wide. You don't know? It's extremely important because it helps to remind yourself of who you are. Then you can go forward, without fear of losing yourself in this ever-changing world.

Daddy used to say a common crow's droppings brought uncommon good luck.

In a manner of speaking,' he sighed. 'After all, our lives are but a sequence of accidents – a clanking chain of chance events. A string of choices, casual or deliberate, which add up to that one big calamity we call life.

Murad muttered that everything had to wait till he was older, and at this rate there would be so much piled up for him to do, there would be no time for it all.

What an unreliable thing is time—when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair." He sighed and smiled sadly. "But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

His ties were the subject of constant speculation...The knots ranged in size from microscopic to a bulky samosa.

Parents are as confused about by life as anyone else. But they try very hard.

But that was always the case – people hardly ever saw their children as they really were.

for things like migraine, high or low blood pressure, stomach cramps. I don't remember exactly, but Bach was the one prescribed most often, especially certain fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier. Wait, I'll be back in a minute.

But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.

All things fall and are built again, and those that build them again are gay

used to. But now I prefer to think that God is a giant quiltmaker. With an infinite variety of designs. And the quilt is grown so big and confusing, the pattern is impossible to see, the squares and diamonds and triangles don't fit well together anymore, it's all become meaningless. So He has abandoned it.

Kur dievas, tas prakeiktas kvailys? Negi jis neskiria, kas teisinga, o kas ne? Nesupranta papras?iausio balanso? Seniai b?t? išmestas iš darbo, jei vadovaut? korporacijai, turint omeny, kokiems dalykams leido atsitikti...

Like trapped animals struggling to break free. What a curse was sickness in old age. This damned Parkinson's, cruel as torture.