Passing passages

I've always felt that the perfomance of a raag resembles a novel - or at least the kind of novel I'm attempting to write. You know,' he continued, extemporizing as he went along, 'first you take one note and explore it for a while, then another to discover its possibilities, then perhaps you get to the dominant, and pause for a bit, and it's only gradually that the phrases begin to form and the tabla joins in with the beat... and then the more brilliant improvisations and diversions begin, with the main theme returning from time to time, and finally it all speeds up, and the excitement increases to a climax.' ~ A Suitable Boy , by Vikram Seth

There are two different kinds, I believe, of human attraction: one which simply disturbs, unsettles, and makes you uneasy, And another that poises, retains, and fixes and holds you. ~ Arthur Hugh Clough

Under the trees several pheasants lay about, their rich plumage dabbled with blood; some were dead, some feebly twitching a wing, some staring up at the sky, some pulsating quickly, some contorted, some stretched out—all of them writhing in agony except the fortunate ones whose tortures had ended during the night by the inability of nature to bear more. With the impulse of a soul who could feel for kindred sufferers as much as for herself, Tess’s first thought was to put the still living birds out of their torture, and to this end with her own hands she broke the necks of as many as she could find, leaving them to lie where she had found them till the gamekeepers should come, as they probably would come, to look for them a second time. “Poor darlings—to suppose myself the most miserable being on earth in the sight o’ such misery as yours!” she exclaimed, her tears running down as she killed the birds tenderly. ~ Tess of the d'Urberville, by Thomas Hardy

"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only - only - don't make it more than I can bear!" ~ Tess of the d'Urberville, by Thomas Hardy

"How can I pray for you, when I am forbidden to believe that the great Power who moves the world would alter his plans on my account?" ~ Tess of the d'Urberville, by Thomas Hardy

IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and si

This was one of those days when I thought that maybe a new life, a different life, wouldn't be so bad. But where the hell had I put the receipt, and could you return something that was over twenty years old? - Laurell K. Hamilton, Cerulean Sins

Music, such music, is a sufficient gift. Why ask for happiness; why hope not to grieve? It is enough, it is to be blessed enough, to live from day to day and to hear such music... not too much, or the soul could not sustain it... from time to time. ~ Vikram Seth, ending lines of 'An Equal Music'

And into that gate they shall enter, and in that house they shall dwell, where there shall be no cloud, nor sun, no darkness nor dazzling, but one equal light, no noise nor silence, but one equal music, no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession,no foes nor friends, but one equal communion and identity, no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity. ~ John Donne

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. "Which road do I take?" she asked. "Where do you want to go?" was his response. "I don't know," Alice answered. "Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter." - Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be? ~ Dead Poets Society, 1989

"I always believed there were two kinds of men in this world, men who go to their deaths screaming, and men who go to their deaths in silence. Then I met a third kind." [A quote referring to the Indian freedom fighters] - Rang de Basanti (the movie).

I'd rather be a could-be if I cannot be an are because a could-be is a maybe who is reaching for a star. I'd rather be a has-been than a might-have-been, by far; for a might have-been has never been, but a has was once an are. ~Milton Berle

".. on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons." - "The Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy" by Douglas Adams

Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest awa y. ~ Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday. - American Beauty

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all ari

But to every mind there openeth, A way, and way, and away, A high soul climbs the highway, And the low soul gropes the low, And in between on the misty flats, The rest drift to and fro. But to every man there openeth, A high way and a low, And every mind decideth, The way his soul shall go. One ship sails East, And another West, By the self-same winds that blow, 'Tis the set of the sails And not the gales, That tells the way we go. Like the winds of the sea Are the waves of time, As we journey along through life, 'Tis the set of the soul, That determines the goal, And not the calm or the strife. John Oxenham, The way

I remember when Sandy sent me this tape I listened to it and said, ‘gee this is a little on the corny side.’ So I sat down and I tried to think, what this song is about. And I guess there was a time when people felt that music provided us with a greater sense of unity, a greater sense of vision and purpose than it does today. And my generation, was a generation that was going to change the world, somehow we were gong to make it a little less lonely, a little less hungry, a little more just place. But it seems that when, when that promise slipped through our hands, we didn’t replace it with nothing but lost faith. Now we live in times that are pretty shattered, I’ve got my music, you’ve got yours, the guy up the street he’s got his, and you could kind of sit back and say, not cynically but truthfully that maybe, that maybe all men are not brothers, and maybe we won’t know who or what we are to each other. But I think Harry instinctively knew that it was going to take a lot more than jus

About eighteen months or two years after the events which terminate this story, when search was made in that cavern for the body of Olivier le Daim, who had been hanged two days previously, and to whom Charles VIII. had granted the favor of being buried in Saint Laurent, in better company, they found among all those hideous carcasses two skeletons, one of which held the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a few strips of a garment which had once been white, and around her neck was to be seen a string of adrézarach beads with a little silk bag ornamented with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the executioner had probably not cared for them. The other, which held this one in a close embrace, was the skeleton of a man. It was noticed that his spinal column was crooked, his head seated on his shoulder blades, and that one leg was shorter than the other. Moreover, there was no fracture of the v

How much of my ungracious condition of mind may have been my own fault, how much Miss Havisham’s, how much my sisters, is now of no moment to me or anyone. The change was made in me; the thing was done. Well or ill done, excusably or inexcusably, it was done. Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

The five peaks of Kanchenjunga turned golden with the kind of luminous light that made you feel, if briefly, that truth was apparent. All you needed to do was to reach out and pluck it. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

But she smiled, he saw, only out of politeness, and he felt a flash of jealousy as do friends when they lose another to love, especially those who have understood that friendship is enough, steadier, healthier, easier on the heart. Something that always added and never took away. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

Could fulfillment be felt as deeply as loss? Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

...Jake was a sunny child. Those were the words Arthur's mother used to describe him. Everyone loved him - she said that too. 'It's because he's so cheerful,' she said. 'So interested in everything and everyone.' Arthur studied his own reflection in the square of mirror in the bathroom. His big plain face and mud-coloured hair. Sunny wasn't the word that sprang to mind. What would the right word be? Not cloudy...Overcast? Dull? That was it. Dull. He even felt dull. The other side of the bridge, Mary Lawson

More Slience. The problem with deceiving Pete was that they had known each other for too long. A friend who has known you since you were four years old really knows you, whereas your parents only think they do. The other side of the bridge, Mary Lawson