In this cash-rich, time-poor culture of ours, the most precious commodity we have is time...volunteering our precious time, is in this brutally self-involved world, the most truly selfless act

As weird as it might seem to some people, there is nothing I love more than an empty house and the sound of silence.

Hope is only the love of life.

I find it easy to spot a depressive. The illness is scrawled across them like graffiti.

...it's what charity truly means, that compassion for each other's vulnerability

One thing I know is true. Try never to abandon hope for if you do, hope will surely try to abandon you.

There is one thing we know about meaning: that meaning consists in attachment to something bigger than you are.

As to whether the depression will come back, it is every depressive's fear.

Bad enough to be ill, but to feel compelled to deny the very thing that, in its worst and most active state, defines you is agony indeed.

Sometimes I think depression should be called the coping illness. So many of us struggle on, not daring or knowing how to ask for help. More of us, terribly, go undiagnosed.

I had carried on when all I wanted was to be dead. I had stayed alive for other people. I never stayed alive for myself. I cannot begin to describe the intensity of that effort.

I cover the floor with a thin layer of imagination so that i’ll always land softly.

Everything on earth is beautiful, everything -- except what we ourselves think and do when we forget the higher purposes of life and our own human dignity.

I am very confident that we will be able to convince all the stakeholders - the shareholders, the governments and the employees, that this is in their best interests.

What is it about sameness that so draws me, and how could I begin to have that same kind of attraction to change?

I think we’re like farm animals before an earthquake.

At the center of our agency is our freedom to form a healthy attitude toward whatever circumstances we are placed in!

The Mexican...is familiar with death. [He] jokes about it, caresses it, sleeps with it, celebrates it. It is one of his favorite toys and his most steadfast love.

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you are a coward.

When I was in college, my brother, B.R. Chopra, who is everything to me, was a director in Bombay. He taught me filmmaking. What I am today is because of him.