66
" Therefore, perception, which I count as the most wonderful of instruments, has just as little reality as that of my poor senses. However I might conceive of matter, it is always something different from what I understood it to be. But it is not only that I can never completely perceive the essence of matter, but also it's that it has no being. Spray water on a hot oven and it is instantaneously vaporized, if I throw a lump of sugar into a cup of tea it melts. If I break the cup I'm drinking out of, I'll have nothing but shards - but no longer a cup. If, however, being can be turned into not-being with the flip of the wrist, then it is not worth talking about it as being. Not-being, death, is the real essence of all matter, life is only a negation of this essence for an infinitely short span of time. But the thought of the drop of water, or the lump of sugar remains immutable, it can never be broken, vaporated, or melted. So isn't this thought to be spoken of with much greater right as reality, than fluctuating material is? " From The Diary Of An Orange Tree "
67
" … What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I'll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusionary -property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life -don't be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn for happiness; it is, after all, all the same: the bitter doesn't last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing. It is enough if you don't freeze in the cold and if thirst and hunger don't claw at your insides. If your back isn't broken, if your feet can walk, if both arms can bend, if both eyes can see, if both ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart -and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it may be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted on their memory. "
― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn , The Gulag Archipelago 1918–1956 (Abridged)
70
" Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour--landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair! Shot out at the feet of God entirely naked! Tumbling head over heels in the asphodel meadows like brown paper parcels pitched down a shoot in the post office! With one's hair flying back like the tail of a race-horse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard...
But after life. The slow pulling down of thick green stalks so that the cup of the flower, as it turns over, deluges one with purple and red light. Why, after all, should one not be born there as one is born here, helpless, speechless, unable to focus one's eyesight, groping at the roots of the grass, at the toes of the Giants? "
― Virginia Woolf
73
" There was a few seconds' pause. Then Amit said: I meant, what were you thinking just now.
When? said Lata.
When you were looking at Pran and Savita. Over the pudding.
Oh.
Well, what?
I can't remember, said Lata with a smile.
Amit laughed.
Why are you laughing? asked Lata
I like making you feel uncomfortable, I suppose.
Oh. Why?
--Or happy--or puzzled--just to see your change of mood. It's such fun. I pity you!
Why? said Lata, startled.
Because you'll never know what a pleasure it is to be in your company.
Do stop talking like that, said Lata. Ma will come in any minute.
You're quite right. In that case: Will you marry me?
Lata dropped her cup. It fell to the floor and broke. She looked at the broken pieces--luckily, it has been empty--and then at Amit.
Quick! said Amit. Before they come running to see what's happened. Say yes.
Lata had knelt down; she was gathering he bits of the cup together and placing them on the delicately patterned blue-and-gold saucer.
Amit joined her on the floor. Her face was only a few inches away from his, but her mind appeared to be somewhere else. he wanted to kiss her but he sensed that there was no question of it. One by one she picked up the shards of china.
Was it a family heirloom? asked Amit.
What? I'm sorry--said Lata, snapped out of her trance by the words.
Well, I suppose I'll have to wait. I was hoping that by springing it on you like that I'd surprise you into agreeing...
...Do stop being idotic, Amit, said Lata. You're so brilliant, do you have to be so stupid as well? I should only take you seriously in black and white.
And in sickness and health.
Lata laughed: For better and for worse, she added. "
― Vikram Seth , A Suitable Boy (A Bridge of Leaves, #1)