Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.
I am formless and everywhere. I am in everything. I am in everything and beyond. I fill all space. All that you see, taken together, is Myself. I do not shake or move.
I am keenly aware that in writing about my mother, I am writing about my aunts’ sister, and that in writing about my grandmother, I’m writing about their mother. I know that my honesty about how my view of these people has changed over the years may be painful.
I actually lost more weight than I am!
I am entirely certain that twenty years from now we will look back at education as it is practiced in most schools today and wonder that we could have tolerated anything so primitive.
I am acquainted with no immaterial sensuality so delightful as good acting.
In countries other than Pakistan – I won’t necessarily call them ‘Western’ – people support me. This is because people there respect others. They don’t do this because I am a Pashtun or a Punjabi, a Pakistani, or an Iranian, they do it because of one’s words and character. This is why I am being respected and supported there.
The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.
I am conscious of my inability to grasp, in all its details and positive developments, any very large portion of human knowledge.
I ask the rights to pursue happiness by having a voice in that government to which I am accountable.