“(Singapore) is not even a place where a white man is permitted to go to pieces….”

“Piece of Heaven?"

"No, that other place I'm going to go to for thinking what I'm thinking.”

“The middle of the road is where the white line is—and that’s the worst place to drive.”

“No man has a home unless he is master of a place where he must please no one—a place where he can go and lock the door behind him.”

“Circus, n. A place where horses, ponies and elephants are permitted to see men, women and children acting the fool.”

“Road poured out into a place of meadows and a few White man’s buildings. Lots of wagons. Horses posted and tied, grazing on the meadow grass. Sounds of metal hammers ringing, chopping of axes in the wood, screech of saws going back and forth, all kinds of White-man forest-killing sounds. A White man’s town.”

“Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instruction book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go.”

“This was a new generation but now that they are all grown up, probably fathers and grandfathers but at that time, this concept (of a nation) was not even part of the imagination of adults, let alone children. So the best way to create a nation is to start from the schools. Once this is embodied and thinking by pure repetition everyday, that becomes part of the psyche of the people. So let me tell you if you are a Singaporean - two and a half million - no place to run - no more. Whether you are a Singapore Chinese, Singapore Malay and Singapore Indian, you cannot run away. This is your last stand, last outpost. So how do you do it? If you think of yourself as Chinese, Malays, Indians and Sri Lankans, then Singapore will collapse. You must think of Singapore - this is my country. I fight and die for Singapore if necessary.”

“Even if mankind had any desire to rid itself of the Seven Deadly Sins, Greed had been assured of a place in our hearts by virtue of time. By writing it down on a piece of paper and parading it as law and belief, Greed could be resurrected at a moment's notice.
That was the beauty of the written word. It was invariably taken at face value and granted permit to be spoken as the truth. It lived longer than the man.
And wreaked havoc in the process.”

“Deep at the dark bottom of the melting pot, where the private is public and the public private, where black is white and white black, where the immoral becomes moral and the moral is anything that makes one feel good (or that one has the power to sustain), the white man's relish is apt to be the black man's gall.”