us and them, us and them.
“ And I mean, I just don’t know how anybody could enjoy anything more than I enjoy reading Charlton Heston’s autobiography, or, you know, getting up in the morning and having the cup of cold coffee that’s been waiting for me all night, still there for me to drink in the morning! And no cockroach or fly has died in it overnight. I mean, I’m just so thrilled when I get up and I see that coffee there just the way I wanted it, I mean, I just can’t imagine how anybody could enjoy something else any more than that! I mean…I mean, obviously, if the cockroach—if there is a dead cockroach in it, well, then I just have a feeling of disappointment, and I’m sad.
But I mean, I just don’t think I feel the need for anything more than all this.”
“Why does the glance into an unknown window always find a family at a meal, or else a solitary man, seated at a table under a hanging lamp, occupied with some obscure niggling thing?”
“Outside Mirza Ghalib’s tomb- an oasis of marble, fruit trees and quietude- two men fight, scaring off the goats and the dogs. They try to rip apart their faces as they roll on the mud, till at last a swarthy man intervenes, beating them with a stick till they run screaming, into one of the alleways.”
“And now I’ve lost touch with every woman I know”
“I’ve stopped talking to my mom”
“During that period, it was in fact mainly from my bedroom that I perceived the world around me.”