After all, we make ourselves according to the ideas we have of our possibilities.
V.S. NAIPAULWhen I learnt to write I became my own master, I became very strong, and that strength is with me to this very day.
More V.S. Naipaul Quotes
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The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it.
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Whatever extra there is in me at any given moment isn’t fully formed. I am hardly aware of it; it awaits the next book. It will – with luck – come to me during the actual writing, and it will take me by surprise
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I could meet dreadful people and end up seeing the world through their eyes, seeing their frailties, their needs.
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All the things that were read to me by my father were stories about things becoming all right.
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Ignorant people in preppy clothes are more dangerous to America than oil embargoes.
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This is unusual for me. I have given readings and not lectures. I have told people who ask for lectures that I have no lecture to give. And that is true.
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I don’t feel I can speak with authority for many other people.
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Some writers can only deal with childhood experience, because it’s complete. For another kind of writer, life goes on, and he’s able to keep processing that as well.
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Argentine political life is like the life of an ant community or an African forest tribe: full of events, full of crisis and deaths, but life is always cyclical, and the year ends as it begins.
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I’m thought to be a tough writer, but I’m really a softie.
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And it was strange, I thought, that sorrow lasts and can make a man look forward to death, but the mood of victory fills a moment and then is over.
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The Europeans wanted gold and slaves, like everybody else; but at the same time they wanted statues put up to themselves as people who had done good things for the slaves.
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Home is, I suppose just a child’s idea. A house at night, and a lamp in the house. A place to feel safe.
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When I learnt to write I became my own master, I became very strong, and that strength is with me to this very day.
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It was a good place for getting lost in, a city no one ever knew, a city explored from the neutral heart outward, until after many years, it defined itself into a jumble of clearings separated by stretches of the unknown, through which the narrowest of paths had been cut.
V.S. NAIPAUL