La pomme
To be a parent and take an occasional day off from being a parent is a special kind of joy—a lightening, a sweetness made sweeter by its impermanence. We buy tickets, find our seats. The
Werner feels he is gazing down into the circuitry of an enormous radio, each soldier down there an electron flowing single file down his own electrical path, with no more say in the matter than an ele...
To enter a world of shadows is to leave this world for another.
To men like that, time was a surfeit, a barrel they watched slowly drain. When really, he thinks, it’s a glowing puddle you carry in your hands; you should spend all your energy protecting it. Fightin...
To really touch something, is to love it.
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....
«Piensa en los obstáculos como en oportunidades,
Your life you wait, and then it finally comes, and are you ready?
To the bombardiers, the walled city on its granite headland, drawing ever closer, looks like an unholy tooth, something black and dangerous, a final abscess to be lanced away.
Todo dia, ela tira um tempo para se perder nos reinos da memória...
Why do we have to sleep in this little bedroom? I’m sure we could clean out a downstairs room if you’d like. What about the room across the
Family? Surely more than genes, eye color, flesh. Family was story: truth and struggle and retribution. Family was time. At the other end of the continent Felix was lying in a hospital bed, asleep, su...
Tucked between the last two pages, she finds an old sealed envelope. He has written For Frederick across the front. Frederick: the bunkmate Werner used to write about, the boy who loved birds. He sees...
Up and down the lanes, the last unevacuated townspeople wake, groan, sigh. Spinsters, prostitutes, men over sixty. Procrastinators, collaborators, disbelievers, drunks. Nuns of every order. The poor....
Диамантът, напомня си ключарят, е само къс въглерод, престоял цяла вечност под огромното налягане в недрата на Земята и е изхвърлен на повърхността през някой коминот лава. Някой го изравя, друг го шл...
Your problem, Werner, says Frederick, is that you still believe you own your life.
Violins, horns, drums, speeches—a mouth against a microphone in some faraway yet simultaneous evening—the sorcery of it holds him rapt.
Puede ser que el cerebro, que jamás conoce una chispa de luz, construya en nuestro interior un mundo lleno de luces?». Si
Трябва ли просто да вървиш след стадото като овца?
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