Ashwani Goyal > Ashwani's Quotes

“We all do better when we work together. Our differences do matter, but our common humanity matters more.”
― Bill Clinton

“There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.”
― Bill Clinton

“The real differences around the world today are not between Jews and Arabs; Protestants and Catholics; Muslims, Croats, and Serbs. The real differences are between those who embrace peace and those who would destroy it. Between those who look to the future and those who cling to the past. Between those who open their arms and those who are determined to clench their fists.”
― Bill Clinton

“No medicine cures what happiness cannot.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

“You are free; you are free to go to your temples. You are free to go to your mosques or to any other places of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion, caste or creed—that has nothing to do with the business of the state.”
― Muhammad Ali Jinnah

“When we choose a mobile network, do we check whether Airtel or Vodafone belong to a particular caste? No, we simply choose the provider based on the best value or service. Then why do we vote for somebody simply because he belongs to the same caste as us?”
― Chetan Bhagat, What Young India Wants

“I was actually permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment: but rallying my wits, and recollecting my principles, I at once called my sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder--how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr. Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take vital interest. Not that I humbled myself by a slavish notion of inferiority: on the contrary, I just said--
"You have nothing to do with the master of Thornfield further than to receive the salary he gives you for teaching his protegee and to be grateful for such respectful and kind treatment as, if you do your duty, you have a right to expect at his hands. Be sure that is the only tie he seriously acknowledges between you and him, so don't make him the object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies, and so forth. He is not of your order: keep to your caste; and be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Fate determines your caste. You must accept it and live according to the rules."
You can't really believe that!"
I do believe it. That man's misfortune is that he cannot accept his caste, his fate."
I know that the Indians wear their caste as a mark upon their foreheads for all to see. I know that in England, we have our own unacknowledged caste system. A laborer will never hold a seat in Parliament. Neither will a woman. I don't think I've ever questioned such things until this moment.
But what about will and desire? What if someone wants to change things."
Kartik keeps his eyes on the room "You cannot change your caste. You cannot go against fate."
That means there is no hope of a better life. It is a trap."
That is how you see it," he says softly.
What do you mean?"
It can be a relief to follow the path that has been laid oud for you, to know your course and play your part in it."
But how can you be sure that you are following the right course? What if there is no such thing as destiny, only choice?"
Then I do not choose to live without destiny," he says with a slight smile.”
― Libba Bray, Rebel Angels

“We divided ourselves among caste, creed, culture and countries but what is undivided remains most valuable: a mere smile and the love.”
― Santosh Kalwar

“We aren't human."

"Yes. We. Are." His voice turns fierce. "I don't give a shit what the something-somethingth council of big important farts decreed, or how the geomests classify things, or any of that. That we're not human is just the lie they tell themselves so they don't have to feel bad about how they treat us.”
― N.K. Jemisin, The Fifth Season

“A chair is not a caste.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“She's on the stairs, ma'am, getting her breath,' said the young servant, who had not been long up from the country, where my mother had the excellent habit of getting all her servants. Often she had seen them born. That's the only way to get really good ones. And they're the rarest of luxuries.”
― Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past: Volume I - Swann's Way & Within a Budding Grove

“...Of the Hindu, of whatever caste, it may be said, as of the poet, nascitur non fit. His birth status is unalterable. But with the Sikh the exact reverse is the case. Born of a Sikh father, he is not himself counted of the faith until, as a grown boy, he has been initiated and received the baptism of the pahul at the Akal Bungah or some equally sacred place.”
― Lepel H. Griffin, Ranjit Singh

“I could not see how poor people had the means of being kind, and then to learn to speak like them, to adopt their manners, to be uneducated, to grow up like one of the poor women [...]: no, I was not heroic enough to purchase liberty at the price of caste.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“During your struggle society is not a bunch of flowers, it is a bunch of cactus.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“When you were talking about the caste system, I was thinking about how Mexicans still have to come to terms with this in our own culture. We spoke earlier about the castas paintings that were made during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Mexico. The Spanish, establishing a form of racial apartheid, delineate the fifty-three categories of racial mixtures between Africans, Indians, and the Spanish. And they have names, like tiente en el aire, which means stain in the air; and salta otras, which means jump back; or mulatto, a word that comes from mula, the unnatural mating between the horse and the donkey. “Sambo” is now a racial epithet in the US, but it was first used as one of the fifty-three racial categories in the castas paintings.”
― Amalia Mesa-Bains, Home Grown: engaged cultural criticism

“If the woman has the physical fitness and the meritorious luck to bear his children, the family was a fortunate one. Villagers always looked at sterility with a squinted eye, and its fault and the misfortune lay solely on the woman's part. As such, a childless woman often became culprit for her entire life.”
― Swarnakanthi Rajapakse, The Master's Daughter

“In Sri Lanka, the people you lived amongst, the people you went to school with, the people in whose houses you ate, whose jokes you shared: these were not the people you married. Quite possibly they were not your religion. More to the point they were probably not your caste. This word with its fearsome connotations was never, hardly ever used. But it was ever present: it muddied the waters of Sri Lanka's politics, it perfumed the air of her bed-chambers; it lurked, like a particularly noxious relative, behind the poruwa of every wedding ceremony. It was the c-word. People used its synonym, its acronym, its antonym-indeed any other nym that came to mind - in the vain hope its meaning would somehow go away. It didn't. But if the people you chose to associate with were the very ones you could not marry, then the ones you did marry were quite often people you wouldn't dream of associating with if you had any choice in the matter.”
― Ashok Ferrey, The Good Little Ceylonese Girl

“Democracy is the process to elect the Government of the Upper class or caste people, by the poor people and for the corporate people - Idiotneil”
― Neil Jain

“Forget Gods, Religion, Caste, Sex, Species, Everything like every single thing - Sense it, Feel it and just be Human !”
― Alamvusha

“It did not cross the minds of most Hindus that barring exceptions, they were responsible for Catholicism in India. The outcastes of Hinduism, the untouchables, who fell beyond the pale of the caste system had ample reason to convert to Catholicism. The caste-Hindus, as a matter of fact, left them no choice. As sub-humans they were little better than slaves.”
― Kiran Nagarkar, Ravan & Eddie

“असल बात तो यह है कि मज़हब तो सिखाता है आपस में बैर रखना। भाई को है सिखाता भाई का खून पीना। हिन्दुस्तानियों की एकता मज़हब के मेल पर नहीं होगी, बल्कि मज़हबों की चिता पर। कौव्वे को धोकर हंस नहीं बनाया जा सकता। कमली धोकर रंग नहीं चढ़ाया जा सकता। मज़हबों की बीमारी स्वाभाविक है। उसकी मौत को छोड़कर इलाज नहीं।”
― Rahul Sankrityayan, तुम्हारी क्षय

“बहुतों ने पवित्र, निराकार, अभौतिक, प्लेटोनिक प्रेम की बड़ी-बड़ी महिमा गाई है और समझाने की कोशिश की है कि स्त्री-पुरुष का प्रेम सात्विक तल पर ही सीमित रह सकता है। लेकिन यह व्याख्या आत्म-सम्मोहन और परवंचना से अधिक महत्व नहीं रखती। यदि कोई यह कहे कि ऋण और धन विद्युत- तरंग मिलकर प्रज्वलित नहीं होंगे, तो यह मानने की बात है।”
― Rahul Sankrityayan

“रूढ़ियों को लोग इसलिए मानते हैं, क्योंकि उनके सामने रूढ़ियों को तोड़ने वालों के उदाहरण पर्याप्त मात्रा में नहीं हैं।”
― Rahul Sankrityayan

“हमारे सामने जो मार्ग है उसका कितना ही भाग बीत चुका है, कुछ हमारे सामने है और बहुत अधिक आगे आने वाला है। बीते हुए से हम सहायता लेते हैं, आत्मविश्वास प्राप्त करते हैं, लेकिन बीते की ओर लौटना कोई प्रगति नहीं, प्रतिगति-पीछे लौटना होगा। हम लौट तो सकते नहीं क्योंकि अतीत को वर्तमान बनाना प्रकृति ने हमारे हाथ में नहीं दे रखा है।”
― Rahul Sankrityayan

“How as a young girl, Ismat Chugtai convinced her father to excuse her from learning how to cook, and give her instead the opportunity to go to school and get an education:

“Women cook food Ismat. When you go to your in-laws what will you feed them?” he asked gently after the crisis was explained to him.

“If my husband is poor, then we will make khichdi and eat it and if he is rich, we will hire a cook,” I answered.

My father realised his daughter was a terror and that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.”
― Ismat Chughtai

“A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover

“We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover

“His body was urgent against her, and she didn't have the heart anymore to fight...She saw his eyes, tense and brilliant, fierce, not loving. But her will had left her. A strange weight was on her limbs. She was giving way. She was giving up...she had to lie down there under the boughs of the tree, like an animal, while he waited, standing there in his shirt and breeches, watching her with haunted eyes...He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came into her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her. Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite and melting her all molten inside. It was like bells rippling up and up to a culmination. She lay unconscious of the wild little cries she uttered at the last. But it was over too soon, too soon, and she could no longer force her own conclusion with her own activity. This was different, different. She could do nothing. She could no longer harden and grip for her own satisfaction upon him. She could only wait, wait and moan in spirit and she felt him withdrawing, withdrawing and contracting, coming to the terrible moment when he would slip out of her and be gone. Whilst all her womb was open and soft, and softly clamouring, like a sea anenome under the tide, clamouring for him to come in again and make fulfillment for her. She clung to him unconscious in passion, and he never quite slipped from her, and she felt the soft bud of him within her stirring, and strange rhythms flushing up into her with a strange rhythmic growing motion, swelling and swelling til it filled all her cleaving consciousness, and then began again the unspeakable motion that was not really motion, but pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling deeper and deeper through all her tissue and consciousness, til she was one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, and she lay there crying in unconscious inarticulate cries.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover