Sacha Dhawan Quotes

Macbeth is contending with the realities of this world, Hamlet with those of the next.

'Shantaram' is fantastic. An Australian prisoner escapes & joins the mafia in India? Sign me up. I love stuff that is based on true stories.

George Saunders's 'Lincoln in the Bardo' is a hands-down masterpiece - the subject of Abraham Lincoln and the genius of this author is a perfect union.

I'm obsessed with 'Peaky Blinders.' Those characters are awful, and yet you root for them. You love them! Same with 'Breaking Bad.'

Drawing Dead is a brilliant noir from one of Australia's most exciting new novelists.

Whether a man lives or dies in vain can be measured only by the way he faces his own problems, by the success or failure of the inner conflict within his own soul. And of this no one may know save God.

Every sin is an attempt to fly from emptiness.

Dear God, I don't want to have invented my faith to satisfy my weakness. I don't want to have created God to my own image as they're so fond of saying. Please give me the necessary grace, oh Lord, and please don't let it be as hard to get as Kafka made it.

Are we to assist it in gaining power in order to save our lives? Is that the paradox of our earthly situation?

If there were no way into God, I would not have lain in the grave of this body so long.

If I wasn't going to be a world-famous journalist and if I didn't have such respect for truth and justice, I could be an amazing master criminal.

If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow and begin devouring humans, and from the same mouth you started devouring humans, you cried out to me 'I love you,' would I still be able to say 'I love you' the same way I do today?

This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war.

If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.

The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways; I to die, and you to live. Which is better? Only God knows.

In all the years when I did not know what to believe in and therefore preferred to leave all beliefs alone, whenever I came to a place where living water welled up, blessedly cold and sweet and pure, from the earth's dark bosom, I felt that after all it must be wrong not to believe in anything.

He lost his Self a thousand times and for days on end he dwelt in non-being. But although the paths took him away from Self, in the end they always led back to it. Although Siddhartha fled from the Self a thousand times, dwelt in nothing, dwelt in animal and stone, the return was inevitable; the hour was inevitable when he would again find himself in sunshine or in moonlight, in shadow or in rain, and was again Self and Siddhartha, again felt the torment of the onerous life cycle.

This is the line of life, this is the line of growth, and this is the line of well-being in India - to follow the track of religion.

If the thought ever comes to you that everything that you have thought about God is mistaken and that there is no God, do not be dismayed. It happens to many people. But do not think that the source of your unbelief is that there is no God.

Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles.

What in Gods name is it worth to be human, if we have to be saved from ourselves by a machine?

I just think it’s amazing that a person could lose everything, chasing nothing.

I believe more and more that God must not be judged on this earth. It is one of His sketches that has turned out badly.

Most of us go through life praying a little, planning a little, jockeying for position, hoping but never being quite certain of anything, and always secretly afraid that we will miss the way. This is a tragic waste of truth and never gives rest to the heart.