In handing over the Government of India to these so-called political classes, we are handing over to men of straw, of whom, in a few years, no trace will remain.

Quotations when engraved upon the memory give you good thoughts.

The pictorial battlefield becomes a sea of mud mercifully veiled by the fog of war.

You see these dictators on their pedestals, surrounded by the bayonets of their soldiers and the truncheons of their police ... yet in their hearts there is unspoken fear. They are afraid of words and thoughts: words spoken abroad, thoughts stirring at home -- all the more powerful because forbidden -- terrify them. A little mouse of thought appears in the room, and even the mightiest potentates are thrown into panic.

I am weary of a task which is done and I hope I shall not shrink when the aftermath ends. My only wish is to live peacefully out the remaining years - if years they be.

A heightened sense of the observation of nature is one of the chief delights that have come to me through trying to paint.

...Have the stresses of war been as bad to you personally as carrying through the policy of Collective Farms?