Neither. I Am Just One Who Has

A White Tiger Keeps No Friends. It's Too Dangerous.

You Ask 'are You A Man Or A Demon?' Neither, I Say. I Have Woken Up, And The Rest Of You Are Sleeping, And That Is The Only Difference Between Us.

A Rich Man's Body Is Like A Premium Cotton Pillow, White And Soft And Blank. ''ours'' Is Different. My Father's Spine Was A Knotted Rope, The Kind That Women Use In Villages To Pull Water From Wells; The Clavicle Curved Around His Neck In High Relief, Like A Dog's Collar; Cuts And Nicks And Scars, Like Little Whip Marks In His Flesh, Ran Down His Chest And Waist, Reaching Down Below His Hip Bones Into His Buttocks. The Story Of A Poor Man's Life Is Written On His Body, In A Sharp Pen.

Nothing Gives Us Greater Pride Than The Importance Of India's Scientific And Engineering Colleges, Or The Army Of Indian Scientists At Organizations Such As Microsoft And Nasa. Our Temples Are Not The God-encrusted Shrines Of Varanasi, But Western Scientific Institutions Like Caltech And Mit, And Magazines Like 'nature' And 'scientific American.

The Moment You Recognize What Is Beautiful In This World, You Stop Being A Slave