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958 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1978
The author’s knowledge of and childhood experiences in India make this an epic and unforgettable book.
A fantastic reread every time!!!
READING PROGRESS
08/21 page 42 4.0% "Instantly enthralled!"
08/25 page 97 10.0% "OK, I'm ready for Ash's childhood to be over!"
09/01 page 183 19.0%
09/06 page 258 26.0%
09/08 page 288 30.0%
09/15 page 316 32.0%
09/18 page 395 41.0% "Awesome ending to part 3!"
09/22 page 401 41.0%
09/25 page 467 48.0%
10/02 page 530 55.0%
10/20 page 570 59.0% "This is my Everest!"
10/30 page 614 63.0%
11/03 page 707 73.0%
11/27 page 720 75.0%
12/01 page 740 77.0%
12/04 page 798 83.0% "Part 7 is dragging..."
12/05 page 823 85.0% "My copy completely disintegrated - the middle has fallen out. Will make it easier to carry around half a book though!"
12/11 page 857 89.0%
12/15 page 874 91.0% "Lost interest."
12/18 page 902 93.0% "The end is in sight! I'm thinking this book being both a historical and (part of the time) a historical romance is what doesn't work for me."
"Ash jerked his gaze from the gulf at his feet and saw, across the vast moon-washed spaces of the night, the Far Pavilions, their glittering peaks high and serene against the quiet sky."
"The months, the years, the centuries would pass, and when the Palace of the Winds was no more, the Far Pavilions would still be there, unchanged and unchanging."
"Only it was not towards Mecca that he would face, but to the mountains. His own mountains, in whose shadow he had been born--to the Dur Khaima to which he prayed as a child. Somewhere over there lay the Far Pavilions, with Tarakalas, the 'Star Tower', catching the first rays of the sunrise. And somewhere, too, the valley that Sita had so longed to reach before she died, and that he himself would reach one day."
"Yet I am still Ashok, and I cannot alter that either, for having been a child of this land for eleven years I am tied to it by something as strong as the tie of blood, and shall always be two people in one skin--which is not a comfortable thing to be."
"Later, as the light began to fade and the dusk turn green about him, he reined in and turned to look back at the mountains that were already in shadow and sharply violet against the hyacinth of the darkening sky. One cluster of peaks still held a last gleam of the sunset: the crown of the Dur Khaima, rose-pink in the twilight. . . the far pavilions. . . The warm colour faded from them as he looked, and peak after peak turned from rose to lavender until at last only Tara Kilas, the 'Star Tower', held the light. Then suddenly that too had gone, and the whole long range lost its sharpness of outline and merged into a night that was brilliant with stars."
"Wally, who was always falling in and out of love, had been fond of quoting lines that some poet or other had written, to the effect that it was 'better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' Well, Wally - and Tennyson, or whoever it was - had been right. It was better, infinitely better, to have loved Juli and lost her than not to have loved her at all. And if he did nothing worthwhile in the years ahead, life would still have been worth living because he had once loved and been loved by her..."
(p 565)
because Afghanistan is no country to fight a war in – and an impossible one to hold if you win
People everywhere preferred to make their own mistakes, and resented strangers (even efficient and well-meaning ones) interfering with their affairs
Had he been older and wiser, and less badly hurt himself, he might have recognized it for what it was: a tantrum thrown by a spoilt child who has been courted and flattered and over-indulged to a point where good sense and youthful high-spirits have turned to conceit and vanity, and any opposition – any fancied slight – is magnified into an unforgivable injur
I do not doubt that you would have done all that was in your power to make her happy. But it is not in your power to build a new world; or to turn back time
the East has never believed in the theory that segregation and quiet are necessary to the sick
Asia has little regard for Time
in the East a respectable woman, when visiting abroad, is an anonymous figure to whom no attention should be paid
he had always known that to Hindus, whose gods were legion, caste was all-important, and that the only way to become a Hindu was to be born one
The fact that religion has not brought love and brotherhood and peace to mankind, but, as was promised, a sword.
'Yet many of different faiths have shown us great kindness.’ ‘Kindness, yes. But they haven't accepted us as one of themselves'