Her uncle seems almost a child, monastic in the modesty of his needs and wholly independent of any sort of temporal obligations. And yet she can tell he is visited by fears so immense, so multiple, th...
Harold Bazin loves to talk
Everybody has misplaced someone,
Earth is all magma and continental crust and ocean. Gravity and time. Stones are just stones and rain is just rain and misfortune is just bad luck.
Could he, by some miracle, keep this going? Could they hide here until the war ends? Until the armies finish marching back and forth above their heads, until all they have to do is push open the door...
Ce n'est pas la réalite.
But to raise one’s hopes is to risk their falling further.
Algumas vezes, eu me apanho encarando o mar e me esqueço de minhas tarefas. Parace grande o suficiente para conter qualquer coisa que as pessoas possam sentir.
Push back the hood of grief...
Your same blood doesn’t run in the arms and legs of the person you’re next to, you can’t trust anything. And even then. It’s not
Walls, the upturned cars, the barking dogs, the
From Jules Verne: Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth.
Choice.
And dream herself into the mind of the great marine biologist Aronnax, both guest of honor and prisoner on Captain Nemo’s great machine of curiosity, free of nations and politics, cruising through the...
What you realize, ultimately, when you have nothing to lose, is that even though the world can be kind to you, and reveal its beauty through the thin cracks in everything, in the end it will either ta...
Werner, that you're from, nowhere, that you shouldn't dream big. But I believe in you. Think you'll do something great.
We are all just tenants here. Even the one thing we believe is ours—the time we’re given on earth—does that belong to us?
We all come into existence as a single cell, smaller than a speck of dust. Much smaller. Divide. Multiply. Add and subtract. Matter changes hands, atoms flow in and out, molecules pivot, proteins stit...
To really touch something, she is learning—the bark of a sycamore tree in the gardens; a pinned stag beetle in the Department of Entomology; the exquisitely polished interior of a scallop shell in Dr....
Time is a slippery thing: lose hold of it once, and its string might sail out of your hands forever. Her