Shayari Category
- Zindagi Shayari(281)
- Romantic Shayari(238)
- Aansu Shayari(111)
- Random Shayari(1962)
- Zakham Shayari(73)
- Yaad Shayari(517)
- Valentine Shayari(39)
- Urdu Shayari(265)
- SMS Shayari(161)
- Sad Shayari(519)
- Sharaab Shayari(148)
- Pyar Shayari(413)
- Tanhai Shayari(134)
- Aankhen Shayari(243)
- Aitbaar Shayari(93)
- Phool Kaante Shayari(34)
- Nazar Shayari(136)
- Naseeb Qismat(61)
- Narazgi Roothna Shayari(51)
- Khushboo Shayari(29)
- Gham Shayari(73)
- Chand Sitare Shayari(115)
- Bhool Shayari(109)
- Arzoo Justajoo Shayari(62)
- Apnapan Shayari(56)
- Ajnabi Shayari(27)
- Punjabi Shayari(120)
- Mehfil Muhabbat Shayari(410)
- Love Shayari(564)
- Birthday Shayari(59)
- Chahat Shayari(65)
- Dard Shayari(708)
- Dhoka Shayari(19)
- Dosti Shayari(449)
- Diwali Shayari(40)
- Dua Shayari(153)
- Dil Shayari(523)
- Ehsaas Shayari(33)
- Eid Shayari(41)
- English Poetry Shayari(347)
Salman Rushdie Quotes
Salman Rushdie- Salman Rushdie quotes are valuable in our daily life.We have a good collection of quotes of Salman Rushdie and other quotes messages from various quotes message categories in various language.
List of Salman Rushdie Quotes
Showing Salman Rushdie quotes 121 - 132 of 296 Salman Rushdie quotes, Page 11 of 25 pages.
After a winter's gestation in its eggshell of ice, the valley had beaked its way out into the open, moist and yellow.


What had been (at the beginning) no bigger than a full stop had expanded into a comma, a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter; now it was bursting into more complex developments, becoming, one might say, a book - perhaps an encylopaedia - even a whole language...


My love for Dan Brown knows no bounds. It literally has no mass.


Literature is where I go to explore the highest and lowest places in human society and in the human spirit, where I hope to find not absolute truth but the truth of the tale, of the imagination and of the heart.


they came in search of the hot stuff, just like any man calling on a tart.


We are the only animals that tell stories to understand the world we live in.


Nobody can judge an internal injury by the size of the superficial wound.


Once upon a time there was a mother who, in order to become a mother, had agreed to change her name; who set herself the task of falling in love with her husband bit-by-bit, but who could n ever manage to love one part, the part, curiously enough, which made possible her motherhood; whose feet were hobbled by verrucas and whose shoulders were stooped beneath the accumulating guilts of the world; whose husband's unlovable organ failed to recover from the effects of a freeze; and who, like her husband, finally succumbed to the mysteries of telephones, spending long minutes listening to the words of wrong-number callers . . . shortly after my tenth birthday (when I had recovered from the fever which has recently returned to plague me after an interval of nearly twenty-one years), Amina Sinai resumed her recent practice of leaving suddenly, and always immediately after a wrong number, on urgent shopping trips.

