Memorial coins.
Why at the beginning of things is there always light? Dorrigo Evans' earliest memories were of sun flooding a church hall in which he sat with his mother and grandmother. A wooden church hall. Blindin...
The idea of the past is as useless as the idea of the future. Both could be invoked by anybody about anything. There is never any more beauty than there is now. There is no more joy or sorrow or wonde...
For the world did not change, this violence had always existed and would never be eradicated, men would die under the boot and fists and horror of other men until the end of time, and all human histor...
Decades would pass. A few short sections would be formed in time into strangely resurrected, trunkless legs-tourist sites, sacred sites, national sites.For the line was broken, as all lines finally ar...
يمكن احتواء الرعب داخل كتاب يمنحه شكلاً ومعنى. أما في الحياة فلم يعد للرعب شكل أكثر مما يوجد للمعنى. الرعب هو الرعب. وعندما يدهم يصبح كما لو أنه لا يوجد شيء في الكون غيره
Speedo, when they worked us seventy days and
Maybe we have lost the ability, that sixth sense that allows us to see miracles and have visions and understand that we are something other, larger than what we have been told. Maybe evolution has bee...
A good book, he had concluded, leaves you wanting to reread the book. A great book compels you to reread your own soul. Such books were for him rare and, as he aged, rarer. Still he searched, one more...
يمكنك أن تدخل في حرب مع العالم، لكن العالم سيربح دائماً
Auger-eyed woman’s small stout form, outlining her
Philopon helps me through this fever, Nakamura said, feeling
I wrote. Something. Yes.And you were truthful.No.You weren't truthful?I was accurate.
His fame seemed to him a failure of perception on the part of others.
He fell asleep and again dreamt of being rowed by two myrtle trees, except this time they rowed through the stars to the moon, and it was quiet, and while everything went on forever the stars were as...
All life is only allegory and the real story is not here...
ليس للرجل السعيد ماض، أما الرجل الحزين فليس لديه شيء آخر
Virtue is virtue, and, like suffering, it is inexplicable, irreducible, unintelligible.
O amor é público, ou não é amor.
Love is public,... or it’s not love. Love is shared with others or it dies.