Each one a little bit different but following some blueprint somewhere. As if each of us might have a blueprint. As if somewhere there's the shape of my life, and I had the chance to choose a few variations, but not far from the pattern.
In a few minutes I heard the books' voices: a low, steady, unsupressible hum. I'd heard it many times before. I've always had a finely tuned ear for a library's accumulations of echo and desire. Libraries are anything but hushed.
We do not have to know everything about something in order to understand it; too many facts are often as much of an obstacle to understanding as too few.
Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
What makes you such an expert on alien life?” Scarlet asked after a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the galaxy. Seen a lot of stuff,” Han said. “Plus, I have common sense.
He plays the same game, but for the first time in his life he is truly playing, rather than working, being a human, and this is a vast distinction realized by few.
Why don’t you just pretend that the asshole dropped dead? You can’t call or write to a dead man. Put a couple of candles in front of his picture, say a few Hail Marys, and get it over with.
I used to think I knew all the answers. Then I thought I knew maybe a few of the answers. Now I'm not even sure I understand the questions. Nobody knows anything.
I'm so excited. I just bought a new file cabinet, some manila folders, some sticky note pads, and a few highlighters, and I think I'm finally ready to enter into organized crime.
It is true that I miss intelligent companionship, but there are so few with whom I can share the things that mean so much to me that I have learned to contain myself. It is enough that I am surrounded with beauty...
There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.
He took twelve pictures that day. Within a few days he showed me the contact sheet. "This one has the magic," he said. When I look at it now, I never see me. I see us.
The scar on my chest, the beating of my heart, and the mountains that fostered my appreciation for the cold, hard, natural world—these were the few things that mattered.
Time wounds all wholes. To exist in Time is to suffer through an endless exile, a successive severing from those precious few moments of feeling at home in the world.
That was torture--being able to see, and smell, and hear, and being trapped in a cage. Like standing on the wrong side of the fence, only a few feet from freedom, and knowing you'll never cross it. Yeah. Like that.
A few years ago a friend said that I use to hunt and fish and build houses and things but now my whole life revolved around my computer I replied "But my computer revolves around the world
Often I've wondered what it would feel like to be him," he whispered softly. "To feel the warmth of your skin under my cold hand or your hot breath on my lips. These last few days have been torment on my curiosity.
In a calm, clear voice, she suggested that the wyrsa in question could do several highly improbable, athletically difficult and possibly biologically impractical things involving its own mother, a few household implements, and a dead fish.
Over the last few millennial, we've invented a series of technologies … that have made it progressively easier and easier for us to externalize our memories, for us to outsource this fundamental human capacity.
If he didn't have Ronnie already in his arms he'd have assumed she'd just opened the door...and aged a few years. Wow, he thought in surprise, she's going to be hot when we hit fifty.
I knew that on that island one was driven back into the past. There was so much space, so much silence, so few meetings that one too easily saw out of the present, and then the past seemed ten times closer than it was.
