Kindle Notes & Highlights
Because it was true, they had been ground, and when they witnessed the grinding of others, they were ground again. Everyone who once lived in the jail now lived in a time when all times were simultaneously present. Sooner or later, their children would come to know.
‘It is easier to hate those who wrong us than to love those we wrong,’ she would say, adding, ‘Living is a graceful task.’ His hand tensed around the tomato. He wanted to love it, but he could not.
If he were Zee, he might think, hope rhymes with rope.
In a sense, his father’s madness was a kind of protest, saving him from having to do anything at all.
‘Remember, it is easier to hate those who wrong us than to love those we wrong.’
She had a buoyancy as a child that had saved her from the scars of adults.
What did they know of it, this thing—this gap—of being different, of not being understood, of being a girl, of being expected to be? Be good for her mother, be chaste like Umbreen, be pretty like Nadia, be polite, be patriotic, be silent, be useful, be a wife, be a mother, be behind the brave men who fought for what she wanted, equally, and could fight for, equally, if she did not have to be.
