There's no heart like the Indian heart.

Poverty and pride are devoted blood brothers until one, always and inevitably, kills the other.

The cloak of the past is cut from patches of feeling ,and sewn with rebus threads.Most of the time , the best we can do is wrap it around ourselves for comfort or drag it behind us as we struggle to go on .

One, what would happen if everyone did this thing? Two, would this help or hinder the movement toward universal ultimate complexity?

Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it's the other way around

The best revenge, like the best sex, is performed slowly, and with the eyes open.

I take everything personally- that's what being a person is all about.