We live in a pretty apathetic age, yet we’re surrounded by an enormous amount of information about other people. If you feel like it, you can easily gather that information about them. Having said tha...
We all die and disappear, but that's because the mechanism of the world itself is built on destruction and loss.
Was it Aristotle who said the human soul is composed of reason, will, and desire?No, that was Plato. Aristotle and Plato were as different as Mel Tormé and Bing Crosby. In any case, things were a lot...
To understand something and to put that something into a form that you can see with your own eyes are two completely different things. If you could manage to do both equally well, living would be a lo...
To think that each skull once had skin and flesh and was stuffed with gray matter—in varying quantities—teeming with thoughts of food and sex and dominance. All now vanished.
Time is too conceptual. Not that it stops us from filling it in. So much so, we can't even tell whether our experiences belong to time or to the world of physical things.
This was never any place I was meant to be. This isn’t a place for me.
This uneasiness comes over me from time to time, and I feel as if I've somehow been pieced together from two different puzzles.
This place is too calm, too natural--too complete. I don't deserve it. At least not yet.
This is the extent of his knowledge of the sea: it was very big, it was salty, and fish lived there.
They tell us that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself,but I don't believe that. he said. Then, a moment later, he added: Oh,the fear is there, all right. It comes to us in many different for...
These days I just can't seem to say what I mean,' she said. 'I just can't. Every time I try to say something, it misses the point. Either that or I end up saying the opposite of what I mean. The more...
There were plenty of women around who dressed smartly, and plenty more who dressed to impress, but this girl was different. Totally different. She wore her clothing with such utter naturalness and gra...
There in the dim light, staring at the shadow on the wall, I poured out the story of my life. (…) How nothing touched me. And I touched nothing. How I’d lost track of what mattered. How I worked like...
There are ways of dying that don't end in funerals. Types of death you can't smell.
Then when dusk began to settle he would retrace his steps, back to his own world. And on the way home, a loneliness would always claim his heart. He could never quite get a grip on what it was. It jus...
Then she took my hand and touched it to the wound beside her eye. I caressed the half-inch scar. As I did so, the waves of her consciousness pulsed through my fingertips and into me - a delicate reson...
The well bottom is like the bottom of the sea. Things down here stay very still, keeping their original forms, as if under tremendous pressure, unchanged from day to day. A round slice of light floats...
The things we try our hardest not to lose, we really just put deep abysses in the spaces between them.
The sky was painted over, a perfect uniform gray. On days like this the clouds probably absorbed the sounds from the surface of the earth. And not just sounds. All kinds of things. Perceptions, for ex...