The contrast between the familiar and the exceptional was everywhere around me. A bullock cart was drawn up beside a modern sports car at a traffic signal. A man squatted to relieve himself behind the discreet shelter of a satellite dish. An electric forklift truck was being used to unload goods from an ancient wooden cart with wooden wheels. The impression was of a plodding indefatigable and distant past that had crashed intact through barriers of time into its own future. I liked it.

but there's no nation uncorrupted. there's no system that's immune to the misuse of money.

I sometimes think that the size of our happiness is inversely proportional to the size of our house.

There are no mistakes. Only new paths to explore.

The past reflects eternally between two mirrors - the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say.

I don't know what frightens me more

Friendship is also a kind of medicine, and the markets for it, too, are sometimes black.