"Never counted in the "costs" of war are the dead birds, the charred animals the murdered fish, incinerated insects, poisoned water sources, destroye… - Arundhati Roy

It wasn't what lay at the end of her road that frightened Ammu as much as the nature of the road itself. No milestones marked its progress. No trees grew along it. No dappled shadows shaded it. No mists rolled over it. No birds circled it. No twists, no turns or hairpin bends obscured even momentarily, her clear view of the end. This filled Ammu with an awful dread, because she was not the kind of woman who wanted her future told. She dreaded it too much. So if she were granted one small wish perhaps it would have been Not to Know, Not to know what each day had in store for her. Not to know where she might be, next month, next year. Ten years on. Not to know which way her road might turn and what lay beyond the bend.

When you live in the United States, with the roar of the free market, the roar of this huge military power, the roar of being at the heart of empire, it's hard to hear the whispering of the rest of the world. And I think many US citizens want to. I don't think that all of them necessarily are co-conspirators in this concept of empire. And those who are not, need to listen to other stories in the world - other voices, other people.

شرح لهما أن التاريخ مثل بيتٍ قديم في الليل،حيث المصابيح مضاءة بأكملها، والأجداد يهمسون في الداخل.
ومن أجل فهم التاريخ، علينا أن ندخل ونصغي إلى ما يقولونه. وأن ننظر في الكتب والصور التي على الجدران. وأن نشم الروائح
لكننا لا نستطيع الدخول، لأننا قد حُجزنا في الخارج، وإذا ما نظرنا من خلال النوافذ، فإن كل ما نراه هو الظلال. وعندما نحاول أن نصغي، فإن كل ما نسمعه هو الهمس. ونحن لا نستطيع فهم الهمس، لأن عقولنا اجتيحت بحرب، حربٍ ربحناها وخسرناها، حرب هي الأسوأ على الإطلاق بين كل الحروب، حرب استولت على أحلامنا، وحلمت بها من جديد، حرب جعلتنا نعبد غزاتنا ونكره أنفسنا.