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"The moment I saw her, a part of me walked out of my body and wrapped itself around her. And there it still remains."
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"Wellsted will remember this moment for the rest of his life. It is the first time he desires something for himself that is not dedicated to his own advancement. It is the moment he falls in love."
"When you became the love, everyone around you becomes your lover."
"There is no insistence where there is pure love. Insistence is infatuation (deep attachment)."
"Forgiveness is all about love. Where love abounds, there forgiveness will not tarry."
Explore more quotes by Arundhati Roy
"Torture has been privatized now, so you have obviously the whole scandal in America about the abuse of prisoners and the fact that, army people might be made to pay a price, but who are the privatized torturers accountable too?"
"For many people, the family is portrayed as the settled place of reasonable safety, but as anyone who has read 'The God of Small Things' would know, for me it was a dangerous place. I felt humiliated in that space. I wanted to get away as soon as I could."
"She was perhaps too young to realize that what she assumed was her love for [him] was actually a tentative, timorous, acceptance of herself."
"But what was there to say?Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much."
"The frozen flowers never go away. They hang around somewhere all the time. I think we need to talk about vases. Did you hear the sound of the white flower?"
"Something about Tilo's new home reminded Musa of the story of Mumtaz Afzal Malik, the young taxi driver whom Amrik Singh had killed, whose body had been recovered from a field and delivered to his family with earth in his clenched fists and mustard flowers growing through his fingers. That story had always stayed with Musa — perhaps because of the way hope and grief were woven together in it, so tightly, so inextricably."
"In the last photograph of her, the bullet wound looked like a cheerful summer rose arranged just above her left ear. A few petals had fallen on her kaffan, the white shroud she was wrapped in before she was laid to rest."
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