Midnight's Children

by Salman Rushdie

there’s no such thing as chance; in which case Musa—for all his age and servility—was nothing less than a time-bomb, ticking softly away until his appointed time; in which case, we should either—optimistically—get up and cheer, because if everything is planned in advance, then we all have a meaning, and are spared the terror of knowing ourselves to be random, without a why; or else, of course, we might—as pessimists—give up right here and now, understanding the futility of thought decision action, since nothing we think makes any difference anyway; things will be as they will.

the new myth—a collective fiction in which anything was possible,

a fable rivalled only by the two other mighty fantasies: money and God.

REALITY IS A QUESTION of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems—but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems more and more incredible.

death makes the living see themselves too clearly; after they have been in its presence, they become exaggerated.”