“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.”—Richard Dawkins, Unweaving the Rainbow (via whiporwill)
n. the moment a conversation becomes real, which occurs when a spark of trust crosses the room and jolts the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you’ve built up through decades of friction with the world.
The gentleman feels for something in his jacket pocket. It’s a nice suit, and it is accompanied by a suitably gentlemanly bow-tie. The effect is sartorially unusual but not too much. What will come out of the pocket, though, is more than unusual. It is unparalleled and almost unbelievable. ‘Here,’ says Maurice Ward, handing over a creamy small square. ‘That’s Starlite.’ It’s a piece of plastic that bends in all directions, with a charred mark the size of a coin on one side. ‘That’s from the nuclear blast,’ says Ward. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no nuclear stuff on it. I wouldn’t have given it to you otherwise.’
acosmist - One who believes that nothing exists paralian - A person who lives near the sea aureate - Pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets dwale - To wander about deliriously sabaism - The worship of stars dysphoria - An unwell feeling …
“So we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing and we cling to it, tell ourselves it has meaning, and that the world is good, and we are not evil, and we will all go home in the end.”— Lestat (via fuckyeahlestat)
“My name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time to say anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.”—Treebeard (via fuckyeahlordoftherings)
“Reading has always brought me pure joy. I read to encounter new worlds and new ways of looking at the world. I read to enlarge my horizons, to gain wisdom, to experience beauty, to understand myself better, and for the pure wonderment of it all. I read and marvel over how writers use language in ways I never thought of. I read for company, and for escape. Because I am incurably interested in the lives of other people, both friends and strangers, I read to meet myriad folks and enter their lives- for me, a way of vanquishing the “otherness” we all experience.”—Nancy Pearl, Book Lust (via meanderingwind)
Talk about a sacrifice that will warm your heart. A group of older Japanese folks are asking for permission to clean up the contaminated nuclear power station in Fukushima.
More than 200 retirees are volunteering to take the place of young people who are exposing themselves to high levels of radiation. The group figures they have less than 20 years to live and will be dead before any radiation induced cancer develops. It’s a different story for the young people who have battled in this war zone for three months and are at great risk for developing cancer as they grow older.
All that is stopping these pensioners from donning their radiation suits is the Japanese government which unfortunately is dragging its bureaucratic feet.