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Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:--
We are as they;
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Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:--
We are as they;
Like them we fade away
As doth a leaf.
To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no
less are thoughts of mortality read more
To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no
less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the soul.
Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen.
Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen.
When the game is over, the king and the pawn go into the same box
When the game is over, the king and the pawn go into the same box
That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible read more
That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.
The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.
The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.
Genius is another word for magic, and the whole point of magic is that it is inexplicable.
Genius is another word for magic, and the whole point of magic is that it is inexplicable.
After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, read more
After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked—as I am surprisingly often—why I bother to get up in the mornings.
Belief in our mortality, the sense that we are eventually going to crack up and be extinguished like the flame read more
Belief in our mortality, the sense that we are eventually going to crack up and be extinguished like the flame of a candle, I say, is a gloriously fine thing. It makes us sober; it makes us a little sad; and many of us it makes poetic. But above all,