Yann Martel

Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed, hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see the God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God are hat wearing Muslims.

Life on a lifeboat isn't much of a life.  It is like an end game in chess, a game with a few pieces.  The elements couldn't be more simple, nor the stakes higher. Physically it is extraordinarily arduous, and morally it is killing...You get your happiness where you can.  You reach a point where you're at the bottom of  hell, yet you have your arms crossed and a smile on your face, and you feel you're the luckiest person on earth.  Why?  Because at your feet you have a tiny dead fish

Life on a lifeboat isn't much of a life.  It is like an end game in chess, a game with a few pieces.  The elements couldn't be more simple, nor the stakes higher. Physically it is extraordinarily arduous, and morally it is killing...You get your happiness where you can.  You reach a point where you're at the bottom of  hell, yet you have your arms crossed and a smile on your face, and you feel you're the luckiest person on earth.  Why?  Because at your feet you have a tiny dead fish

I told you two stories that account for the 227 days in between...Netierh explains the sinking of the Tsimtsum...Neither makes a factual difference to you...You can't prove which story is true and which is not.  You must take my word for it...In both stories the ship sinks, my entire family dies, and I suffer...So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can't prove the question either way, which sotry do you prefer?

Words of divine consciousness: moral exaltation; lasting feelings of elevation, elation, joy; a quickening of the moral sense, which strikes one as more important than an intellectual understanding of things; an alignment of the universe along moral lines, not intellectual ones; 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. 

Am I allowed no explanation? I am to suffer hell without any account from heaven? In that case, what is the purpose of reason, Richard Parker? Is it no more than to shine at practicalities – the getting of food, clothing, and shelter? Why can’t reason give greater answers? Why can we throw a question further than we can pull in an answer? Why such a vast net if there’s so little fish to catch?

Life on a lifeboat isn't much of a life.  It is like an end game in chess, a game with a few pieces.  The elements couldn't be more simple, nor the stakes higher. Physically it is extraordinarily arduous, and morally it is killing...You get your happiness where you can.  You reach a point where you're at the bottom of  hell, yet you have your arms crossed and a smile on your face, and you feel you're the luckiest person on earth.  Why?  Because at your feet you have a tiny dead fish

Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat-wearing Muslims.

To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.

    After the "Hellos" and the "Good days", there was an awkward silence. The priest broke it when he said, with pride in his voice, "Piscine is a good Christian boy. I hope to see him join our choir soon."

    My parents, the pandit and the imam looked surprised.

    "You must be mistaken. He's a good Muslim boy. He comes without fail to Friday prayer, and his knowledge of the Holy Qur'an is coming along nicely." So said the imam.

    My parents, the priest and the pandit looked incredulous.

    The pandit spoke. "You're both wrong. He's a good Hindu boy. I see him all the time at the temple coming for darshan and performing puja."

    My parents, the imam and priest looked astounded.

    "There is no mistake," said the priest. "I know this boy. He is Piscine Molitor Patel and he's a Christian."

    "I know him too, and I tell you he's a Muslim," asserted the imam.

    "Nonsense!" cried the pandit. "Piscene was born a Hindu, lives a Hindu and will die a Hindu!"

    The three wise men stared at each other, breathless and disbelieving.

    Lord, avert their eyes from me, I whispered in my soul.

    All eyes fell upon me.