Yet I must cling with all my might to . . . I've fished in it for my art. This turbulent sea was the sea outside my bedroom window in Bombay. It is the sea by which I was born, and which I carry within me wherever I go. No, sir, it is not.
Free speech is the whole thing, the whole ball game.
Free speech is life itself. . . . You must decide what you think a friend is worth to his friends, what you think a son is worth to his mother, or a father to his son. You must decide what a man's conscience and heart and soul are worth. You must decide what you think a writer is worth, what value you place on a maker of stories, and an arguer with the world. Ladies and gentlemen, the balloon is sinking into the abyss.