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243 pages, Hardcover
First published June 12, 2018
“For there are many worthy mysteries that are not on a path to resolution.” (pg. 14)
“I would feel the warm wind on my ears, the sun caressing me as it prepared to set. But there was a storm raging inside me. Had it not been established that on scales very large and very small our intuitions trick us, about space and matter and time and causality? That the discrepancy between the laws of probability and the workings of cognition helps explain our suspicion of coincidence, why we put faith in omens and curses, retribution and prayers? Had we not learned that we are not rational, despite it all, and depart from rationality in ways that are predictable? That rationality is in any case just one of many ways to score experience? That we can only know the world through the senses that evolution has passed down to us; that reality is therefore forever opaque to us, our relationship to truth an asymptote, like unrequited love?” (pg. 189-190, in Hope)
“Myths are stories about a distant past or an imagined future, shadowing our existence like intimate, mysterious companions. They orient us in the universe and provide a kind of comfort. But myths also summon truths beyond our jurisdiction: about the nature of matter, and time, and the forces. About how we came to be, and why we can or cannot hope, and where we might be headed.” (pg. 3-4, Introduction)
“myths are expressions of existential conundrums, creatures of our lonely, searching minds. And since our minds have always both imagined infinity and lived, uneasily, with the surety and sadness of death, throughout the ages the themes of myth have remained strikingly unchanging.” (pg. 4-5, Introduction)
“If beasts would one day roam these lands, as they would the waters, there was no one to whisper the news to me within Earth’s barren, despairing tracks.” (pg. 103, in Pride)
“This is how I learned of the continents’ stirrings, a world coming apart at its seams.” (pg. 113, in Jealousy)
“Thus, the white lie, the exaggeration, the half-truth, the fib, the perjury, the promise, the myth were all invented—and the brains that would willingly or unwillingly be deceived. On the wings of imagination, fiction was born, in all its duplicitous splendor. And with it the contemplation of all possible things.” (pg. 178, in Truth)
“How could this be? I puzzled and I pondered. And when I thought I knew the answer for fleeting moments of blessed clarity, the insight slipped between my fingers, like fleeing grains of sand.” (pg. 184, in Hope)
“When I walked through the halls, the entire world faded away behind me, the echoes from the vaults becoming muted as if we were underwater, just me and the fossils communing.” (pg. 186, in Hope)
“Onto land life crawled from the seacoast; then some creatures vaulted to the heavens, and others dove back into the waters, like returning ghosts.” (pg. 187, in Hope)