I am not ambitious for ecstasy, you will ask me to think of the future, but the decade to come pales before this second, the span of my life is less important than its quality. I want to sit here in the mild sun and try not to think, try and escape the iniquity of the restless of my mind. Do you understand. Doesn’t anyone understand the absence of ambition, or the simplicity of it.

Upamanyu Chatterjee

(English, August)


Snippet #23

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

George Orwell

(Why I Write)

Snippet #22

He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself dark and shiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact.

Ray Bradbury

(Fahrenheit 451)

Snippet #21