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Stakkars mamma, tenker jeg. Hundre prosent utdatert, men fortsatt like blid.
Jeg tar på meg de hvite skinnsandalene. Det er jo sommer, tross alt. Men jeg tar også på meg den lyse ytterjakka så jeg ikke skal fryse. Farmor var alltid så opptatt av trekk. Så nå har liksom jeg også blitt det.
Og hvorfor er innsikt i den menneskelige natur så viktig? Fordi den eneste virkelige trussel som eksisterer, er mennesket selv.
Jeg er antagelig den enste i hele verden som vet hvordan en mammut lukter, tenkte han.
Had it always been here - this marvellous black earth in which she sank to her ankles, this coral-coloured fungus frilling the branches at her feet? Had birds always sung? Had the rain always this light touch, as if she might inhabit it? She supposed they had, and that it had never been very far from her door. She supposed there must have been other times when she'd laughed alone into the wet bark of a tree, or exclaimed to no-one over the fineness of a fern unfolding, but she could not remember them.
The trees grew thick and misshapen and enormous. They leaned over the river; they threw thin wisps of branches into the air, clawing for more of the sky. They looked the way a snarl sounds.
The Laceys lived in what was, at its core, an honest to god sixteenth-century half-timbered building. It was the sort of place that had been so heavily modified by each succeeding generation that grown conservationists are reduced to weeping because the whole ill-fitting hodgepodge of styles and periods are equally historical and worth preserving. Except for maybe the ugly PVC frame door which filled the. Restoration-era hooded doorway like a cheap set of plastic dentures.
Då eg var lita, innbilte eg meg at eg var svært oppteken av filosofi, men då eg tok konsekvensen av denne innbilte interessa, og begynte å lese filosofi, oppdaga eg at eg ikkje var interessert likevel. Eg ville bare lære å leve rett, ikkje rote meg inn i noko helvetes dualismeproblematikk.
In reality the world is made of thousands upon thousands of groups of about five hundred people, all of whom will spend their lives bumping into each other, trying to avoid each other, and discovering each other in the same unlikely teashop in Vancouver.
When you're born into a world where everything is false, and in which you are never going to make a difference, what other alternative is there than to just skate around on the surface, making pretty patterns?
You can't dingleberry that! That's a flagrant misuse of the dingleberry! I dingleberry you calling her!
Only a handful of people really understood mathematics anyway. There was no point in even teaching maths at this low level. Wasn't it enough to let them know there was this incomprehensible thing out there called mathematics, and leave it at that?