I Don't Feel I Can Speak With

Making A Book Is Such A Big Enterprise.

We Made No Inquiries About India Or About The Families People Had Left Behind. When Our Ways Of Thinking Had Changed, And We Wished To Know, It Was Too Late. I Know Nothing Of The People On My Father's Side; I Know Only That Some Of Them Came From Nepal

Home Is, I Suppose Just A Child's Idea. A House At Night, And A Lamp In The House. A Place To Feel Safe.

How Could People Like These, Without Words To Put To Their Emotions And Passions, Manage? They Could, At Best, Only Suffer Dumbly. Their Pains And Humiliations Would Work Themselves Out In Their Characters Alone: Like Evil Spirits Possessing A Body, So That The Body Itself Might Appear Innocent Of What It Did.

I Came To London. It Had Become The Center Of My World And I Had Worked Hard To Come To It. And I Was Lost.