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Despair was a heavy blackness that let no light in or out. It was a hell beyond expression. I thank God it always passed.

Yann Martel

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Yann Martel
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: June 25
Author
Novelist
Prosaist
Screenwriter
Writer
Always
Passed
Thank
Heavy
Despair
Beyond
Expression
Hell
Blackness
Light
Desperation

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I love Canada. Its a wonderful political act of faith that exists atop a breathtakingly beautiful land.
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Religion is just an alternate way of reading reality - you read material reality, and then you add on an extra layer of religiosity that deepens that understanding of reality. Some countries have lost that capacity, or dismissed it or marginalized it.
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When your own life is threatened, your sense of empathy is blunted by a terrible, selfish hunger for survival.
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The presence of God is the finest of rewards.
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A house is a compressed territory where our basic needs can be fulfilled close by and safely.
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Zoo is an artificial territory, an approximation. Civilization is our natural territory.
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India is a place where all stories are possible. You forget that the imagination can take hold of anything and contemplate it and love it and describe it.
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The worst pair of opposites is boredom and terror. Sometimes your life is a pendulum swing from one to the other.
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The paths to liberation are numerous, but the bank along the way is always the same, the Bank of Karma, where the liberation account of each of us is credited or debited depending on our actions.
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Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat wearing Muslims.
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That's what fiction is about, isn't it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?
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I spent more hours than I can count a quiet witness to the highly mannered, manifold expressions of life that grace our planet. It is something so bright, loud, weird and delicate as to stupefy the senses.
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We believe what we see.’...What do you do when you’re in the dark?
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Reality is how we interpret it. Imagination and volition play a part in that interpretation. Which means that all reality is to some extent a fiction.
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Why can't reason give greater answers? Why can we throw a question further than we can pull in an answer? Why such a vast net if there's so little fish to catch?
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Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites dancing in a field-but they're all we have.
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Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart.
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In my youth, it was my good luck to have a few good teachers, men and women, who came into my head and lit a match.
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No one dies of nausea, but it can seriously sap the will to live.
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