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Quote by Ehsan Sehgal

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Ehsan Sehgal

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“I get so small down there. I think of people and their words. Disappointments and all the rest, but up here, somewhere else, I feel vast. I feel whole. I feel the magic of life, I see the divine in the sky, unbearably excited about this world and my place in it, how I turned myself into a writer who moves with the seasons, wander and seek, teach and learn. Offer small moments of comfort, maybe? hopefully? Down there people make me feel like that’s not good enough. Like what I do isn’t beautiful. But it is, for me. I forget it sometimes but then I leave and find a new home and meet new people who call me by another name and they laugh at my jokes, ask me questions and share things back. I write and I create, learn and try to help and some people make me feel like I’m not doing something real but how can this not be real? How can this not be beautiful?”

“Look back. Look around. Look above. Look ahead. Honestly, ask yourself who you are, what you want, where you need to go, how you will get there, and what you should do when you are there. That way, you will be on the right track to success.”

“Tall, head forward, eyes fastened on a rock, his arms higher than the pines, his hands holding a melon bigger than the sun, he paused an instant to get his bearing and secure his aim. Watching the figure etched against the bright blue sky, Cholly felt goose pimples popping along his arms and neck. He wondered if God looked like that. No. God was a nice old white man, with long white hair, flowing white beard, and little blue eyes that looked sad when people died and mean when they were bad. It must be the devil who looks like that -- holding the world in his hands, ready to dash it to the ground and spill the red guts so niggers could eat the sweet warm insides. If the devil did look like that, Cholly preferred him. He never felt anything thinking about God, but just the idea of the devil excited him. And now the strong, black devil was blotting out the sun and getting ready to split open the world.”

“She stared at her mother's hat resting so quiet and rich on top of her parent's closet. It had a soft brown velvet brim ad white feathers were peeking out brown with dots and that hat was amazing because it stayed so solid and fixed to the shelf and yet the girl thought the feathers made it seem as if it could just fly away when she wasn't looking and if it really wanted to. Anyway, maybe the hat had thoughts of its own or could absorb all the thoughts and made-up stories of the person who wore the hat and keep them under the velvet brim and hide them in between the soft feathers as if they were eggs and keep them warm until they escaped.”

“She thought of the little disks hidden in her closet and under her bed and at the back of her drawers. They were her secret. The disks she made let her hold those times and remember them forever. Like putty her father had used to fill the nick in the cupboard, her disks dilled the empty space that was left behind wen a moment was over. Her mother and father could never find them.”