Civilization itself is housed in the human being.

what was the right level of prosperity, the level that banished dire need but did not satiate, the level that did not threaten the artist in the individual? And how did one stop when one arrived at it?

passion of any sort is seldom governed by the rules of etiquette.

Formal education in British India was remarkable for its lack of connection with its Indian environment. Like the African persuaded to cover his nakedness with a Mother Hubbard, we wore mental Mother Hubbards, and they were often a sad fit. Our textbooks had been compiled by Englishmen for English children, of whom there were none in my school and few in any school in India.

[Race] had no substance, like a shadowy shape that terrifies in the dark but vanishes by the light of day.

Race was a word that bred arrogance, danger and violence. When had incitement to race served a peaceful purpose? Race was a fuel and it needed only a match to light it. Any match - my hostility, your ambition, a third person's advantage.

In the end countries, like people, are alone, and the real things that must be done have to be done without help.