More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I wish, he thinks, spoken words could be captured and kept in a locket.
Creation never ceased on the sixth evening, it occurs to the young man. Creation unfolds around us, despite us, and through us, at the speed of days and nights, and we like to call it “
“The soul is a verb.” He impales a lit candle on a spike. “Not a noun.”
The readiest apologies, Penhaligon observes, carry the littlest worth.
“we have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.
“The truth of a myth, Your Honor, is not its words but its patterns.”
“My uncle would quote Goethe: ‘Our friends show us what we can do; our enemies teach us what we must do.’
bark … So little is actually worthy of either belief or disbelief. Better to strive to coexist than seek to disprove …”
This world, he thinks, contains just one masterpiece, and that is itself.
To win, his father taught him, purify yourself of the desire to win.
The purest believers, Shiroyama thinks, are the truest monsters.
‘Knowledge exists only when it is given ….’” Like love, Jacob would like to add.
