Oliver Sacks.
A few weeks ago, in the country, far from the lights of the city, I saw the entire sky 'powdered with stars' (in Milton's words); such a sky, I imagined, could be seen only on high, dry plateaus like that of Atacama in Chile (where some of the world’s most powerful telescopes are). It was this celestial splendor that suddenly made me realize how little time, how little life, I had left. My sense of the heavens' beauty, of eternity, was inseparably mixed for me with a sense of transience -- and death.
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dean at
10:12 PM
Jason Aaron, One.
'And so there I was, in a ruined town in Kansas with a dying man strapped to a jetpack, looking through an alien portal, watching a whole world burn.'
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dean at
05:07 PM
Haruki Murakami.
If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.
Posted by
dean at
09:22 PM
Unwritten, Seven.
'When the world's flesh is scoured away, metaphors will be all that's left.'
Posted by
dean at
10:33 PM
