The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.

You might think I lost all hope at that point. I did. And as a result I perked up and felt much better.

A realization that the founding principle of existence is what we call love, which works itself out sometimes not clearly, not cleanly, not immediately, nonetheless ineluctably.

I cannot think of a better way to spread the faith. No thundering from a pulpit, no condemnation from bad churches, no peer pressure, just a book of scripture quietly waiting to say hello, as gentle and powerful as a little girl's kiss on your cheek.

War subjects itself to transportation in a way that we find acceptable.

Just do it. Get it down on the page. Work hard. And then let go. Ask yourself why you want to write. You have to be clear about that.

India is a place where all stories are possible. You forget that the imagination can take hold of anything and contemplate it and love it and describe it.