Now India is a place beyond all others where one must not take things too seriously—the midday sun always excepted.

Never look backwards or you'll fall down the stairs.

We're all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.

Never praise a sister to a sister, in the hope of your compliments reaching the proper ears.

There rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn; and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin.

We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.

Brother, thy tail hangs down behind.