I’ve been worrying about God a little bit lately. It seems like he’s been in a bad mood. And I think it has to do with the quality of lovers he’s been getting.
SALMAN RUSHDIEOne of the strange things about violent and authoritarian regimes is they don’t like the glare of negative publicity.
More Salman Rushdie Quotes
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A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.
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Liberate yourself, because no one else is going to liberate you.
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The world, somebody wrote, is the place we prove real by dying in it.
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Two things form the bedrock of any open society – freedom of expression and rule of law. If you don’t have those things, you don’t have a free country.
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Ignorantly is how we all fall in love; for it is a kind of fall. Closing our eyes, we leap from that cliff in hope of a soft landing. Nor is it always soft; but still, without that leap nobody comes to life.
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I don’t dictate to anyone what to believe and what not to. And I don’t want that to be dictated to me either.
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He knew what he knew: that the real world was full of magic, so magical worlds could easily be real.
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One of the things a writer is for is to say the unsayable, speak the unspeakable and ask difficult questions.
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But there’s one thing we must all be clear about: terrorism is not the pursuit of legitimate goals by some sort of illegitimate means. Whatever the murderers may be trying to achieve, creating a better world certainly isn’t one of their goals. Instead they are out to murder innocent people.
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Respect for religion’ has become a code phrase meaning ‘fear of religion.’ Religions, like all other ideas, deserve criticism, satire, and, yes, our fearless disrespect.
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Our lives, our stories, flowed into one another’s, were no longer our own, individual, discrete.
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You can find shame in every house, burning in an ashtray, hanging framed upon a wall, covering a bed. But nobody notices it any more.
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Masks beneath masks until suddenly the bare bloodless skull.
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Only the foolish, blinded by language’s conventions, think of fire as red or gold. Fire is blue at it’s melancholy rim, green in it’s envious heart. It may burn white, or even, in it’s greatest rages, black.
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To understand just one life you have to swallow the world do you wonder, then, that I was a heavy child?
SALMAN RUSHDIE






