Their existence gives the lie to the thought that the wild is always something untouched by human hearts and hands. The wild can be human work.
“Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew they were probably watching. They watched everything, after all.
Let them watch. Let them see what it meant to be human. To live.
Let them see what it meant to love, and be loved in return.”
― Vertigo
Let them watch. Let them see what it meant to be human. To live.
Let them see what it meant to love, and be loved in return.”
― Vertigo
“She didn’t want to be the savior of humanity. She never had. She didn’t want to be the vanguard—of destruction or salvation. What she had really wanted was to be a girl whose father lived to show her the stars.
Instead she had been left to wander them alone. Until she discovered someone who saw the stars as she did.”
― Vertigo
Instead she had been left to wander them alone. Until she discovered someone who saw the stars as she did.”
― Vertigo
“She thought he might have said her name, but it was background radiation accompanying the hum in her ears and the symphony in her head—
—a song of quantum mechanics and trajectory calculations and astroscience physics and where to go, where to go, where to…”
― Vertigo
—a song of quantum mechanics and trajectory calculations and astroscience physics and where to go, where to go, where to…”
― Vertigo
“She burst into her hotel room pulling her blouse over her head with one hand while she yanked her shoes off with the other.
No way was she going to face an alien invasion in heels and silk.”
― Vertigo
No way was she going to face an alien invasion in heels and silk.”
― Vertigo
“I think of what wild animals are in our imaginations. And how they are disappearing — not just from the wild, but from people’s everyday lives, replaced by images of themselves in print and on screen. The rarer they get, the fewer meanings animals can have. Eventually rarity is all they are made of. The condor is an icon of extinction. There’s little else to it now but being the last of its kind. And in this lies the diminution of the world. How can you love something, how can you fight to protect it, if all it means is loss?”
― H is for Hawk
― H is for Hawk
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Tami’s 2025 Year in Books
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