There is nothing stronger in the world than gentleness.

Strange are the ways of history, where no single thing abides, but all things flow into each other, fragment to fragment clinging.

All humans are frightened of their own solitude. But only in solitude can we learn to know ourselves, learn to handle our own eternal aloneness.

The rice bowl is to me the most valid reason in the world for doing anything. A piece of one's soul to the multitudes in return for rice and wine does not seem to me a sacrilege.

It is the illusion of all lovers to think themselves unique and their words immortal.

This is Malaya. Everything takes a long, a very long time, in Malaya. Things get done, occasionally, but more often they don't, and the more in a hurry you are, the quicker you break down.

People bring to what they see and feel, the inner weather of their souls and complexion of their minds.