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Quote by Tarang Sinha

“वो अधूरी ख़्वाहिशें जिन्हें हम ढ़ूंढ़ते हैं इन ख़ूबसूरत कहानियों में...”

Quote by Tarang Sinha

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Tarang Sinha

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“खिड़कियों में कुछ तो खास होता है। चाहे आप अपनी खिड़की से बाहर देखें या बाहर से किसी खिड़की को देखें (झांकें नहीं)। चाहे वो ट्रेन की खिड़की हो या फिर किसी वीरान पड़े घर की खिड़की।”

“इस ढलते सूरज को देख रहे हो?' उसने कहा। 'मैं हमेशा उदास हो जाती हूँ इसे देखकर, ये जानते हुए कि ये सूरज कल लौटेगा, एक नई चमक के साथ। सोचो, कितना मुश्किल होता होगा उसे जाने देना जिसके लौटने की कोई उम्मीद न हो?”

“When I was a boy I used to wish that God had given primordial men the gift of writing, because they would’ve been able to record the dates on which new stars appeared in the night sky. Then we’d know precisely how far away each star was, because we’d know—to the day—when each one’s light first reached the Earth. But men didn’t invent writing until long after the emergence of the stars, so astronomers are forced to use more indirect means to deduce their distances. My teachers told me that God wanted us to reason things out for ourselves. But what if that’s not true? What if”—his voice cracked—“what if God had no intentions about us at all?”

“God's M.O., he reflected, is to transmute evil into good. If He is active here, He is doing that now, although our eyes can't perceive it; the process lies hidden beneath the surface of reality, and emerges only later. To, perhaps, our waiting heirs. Paltry people who will not know the dreadful war we've gone through, and the losses we took, unless in some footnote in a minor history book they catch a notion. Some brief mention. With no list of the fallen.”

“When I consider the brief span of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and behind it, the small space that I fill, or even see, engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces which I know not, and which know not me, I am afraid.' 'I should think so' I said. 'I am afraid, sir, and wonder to see myself here rather than there. For there is no reason why I should be here rather than then' 'Did you come to any conclusion?' The Stanton cleared its throat, then got out a folded linen handkerchief and carefully blew its nose. 'It seems to me that time must move in strange jumps, passing over intervening epochs. But why it would do that, or even how, I do not know. At a certain point the mind cannot fathom anything further.”