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He was depressed to think that summer was nearly over. It was like having to leave the theater halfway through a wonderful movie.
In her vocabulary, “passion,” 8especially in a child, was the grass fire that had to be stamped out before it destroyed everything the farmer planted.
To be the child of Indian parents meant you also had a secret self. Like having brown skin, you had no choice.
Billy had offered Ravi the thing he most needed: his quiet, silent presence.
“You see, Ravi, this world isn’t just all the things we can see and touch. It’s also all the things we can’t see, the things we choose to believe.”
there’s an old Scottish saying my ma was fond of. What’s for you won’t go by you.
No matter how many times Bala saw me come or go, always it was the same. Every arrival was a celebration. And every goodbye was forever.”
No matter how many times we ate like that together, and for so many years, he always acted as if that day’s visit was special because he might never have another chance.”
Yes, he could plan, he must plan, but he had to take into account that fate—or God, or the universe—had its own plans; it was indifferent to his plan.
It was silly to worry about pleasing or displeasing others with his choices; life was hard enough without such meaningless concerns.
