Any writer will be happy and good only if they know what they’re doing and why they’re doing it.
YANN MARTELWe think we live in a global village. We don’t. The world is a big and beautiful and incredibly varied place. It can only be known locally, with your two feet on the ground. We should stick to our own gardens, as Voltaire said.
More Yann Martel Quotes
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I wept like a child. It was not because I was overcome at having survived my ordeal, though I was. Nor was it the presence of my brothers and sisters, though that too was very moving.
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Nothing beats reason for keeping tigers away. But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater.
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As much as I love movies, it would be presumptuous of me to think that I know how to make one.
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I thought they were helping me. I was so full of trust in them that I felt grateful as they carried me in the air. Only when they threw me overboard did I begin to have doubts.
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I had to stop hoping so much that a ship would rescue me. I should not count on outside help. Survival had to start with me.
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It’s important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go.
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First wonder goes deepest; wonder after that fits in the impression made by the first.
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How long does it take for a broken spirit to kill a body that has food, water and shelter?
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The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.
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Artists invent things as a way of telling the truth.
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How true is that necessity is the mother of invention, how very true.
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Once you’ve been struck by violence, you acquire companions that never leave you entirely: Suspicion, Fear, Anxiety, Despair, Joylessness. The natural smile is taken from you and the natural pleasures you once enjoyed lose their appeal.
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A realization that the founding principle of existence is what we call love, which works itself out sometimes not clearly, not cleanly, not immediately, nonetheless ineluctably.
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The moon was a sharply defined crescent and the sky was perfectly clear. The stars shone with such fierce, contained brilliance that it seemed absurd to call the night dark.
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If you stumble at mere believability, what are you living for? Isn’t love hard to believe?
YANN MARTEL