Rohinton Mistry CM (born 3 July 1952) is an Indian-born Canadian writer. He was awarded the Neustadt International Prize for Literature in 2012.
Distance was a dangerous thing, she knew. Distance changed people.
Zoroastrianism is about the opposition of good and evil. For the triumph of good, we have to make a choice. We can enlist on the side of good by prospering, making money and using our wealth to help others.
. . . there was another, gorier parturition, when two nations incarnated out of one. A foreigner drew a magic line on a map and called it the new border; it became a river of blood upon the earth. And the orchards, fields, factories, businesses, all on the wrong side of that line, vanished with a wave of the pale conjuror's wand.
In foreign countries they fear baldness. They are so rich in foreign countries, they can afford to fear all kinds of silly things.
. . . the face has limited space. My mother used to say, if you fill your face with laughing, there will be no more room for crying.
All fiction relies on the real world in the sense that we all take in the world through our five senses and we accumulate details, consciously or subconsciously. This accumulation of detail can be drawn on when you write fiction.
Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories. . . they're the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, loss and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Only the details are different.
He who spits paan at the ceiling only blinds himself.
The carnage upon the chessboard of life, left wounded humans in its wake
Loss is essential. Loss is part and parcel of that necessary calamity called life.
. . . you have to use your failures as stepping stones to success. You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair. In the end it’s all a question of balance.
The worst part of great poverty is that you become blind to it.
If there was an abundance of misery in the world, there was also sufficient joy, yes - as long as one knew where to look for it.
In the end, it’s all a question of balance.
Flirting with madness was one thing; when madness started flirting back, it was time to call the whole thing off.
There was no such thing as perfect privacy, life was a perpetual concert-hall recital with a captive audience.
Lately you are brooding too much about rights. Give up this dangerous habit.
The Law is a grim, unsmiling thing. Not Justice, though. Justice is witty and whimsical and kind and caring.
I think a lot about the past, it's true. But at my age, the past is more present than the here and now. And there is not much percentage in the future.
Black money is so much a part of our white economy, a tumour in the centre of the brain - try to remove it and you kill the patient.