Musings

“Go to Old Delhi, and look at the way they keep chickens there in the market. Hundred of pale hens and brightly coloured roosters, stuffed tightly into wire-mesh cages. They see the organs of their brothers lying around them. They know they are next, yet they cannot rebel. They do not try to get out of the coop.

The very same thing is done with humans in this country.”

Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

…sometimes it seems to me we’re living in a world that we fabricate for ourselves. We decide what’s good and what isn’t, we draw maps of meaning for ourselves…

And then we spend our whole lives struggling with what we have invented. The problem is that each of us has our own version of it, so people find it hard to understand each other.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, Olga Tokarczuk

You don’t believe the sky is falling until a chunk of it falls on you.

The Testaments, Margaret Atwood

The spider’s web is a home and a trap.

There There, Tommy Orange

…he had answered “nothing”, that word we answer when we are thinking “everything”.

On Heroes and Tombs, Ernesto Sabato