I was more interested in what happens when you are cut off from another world, and how you create your own.
We've known for a long time that it was no longer possible to overturn this world, nor reshape it, nor head off its dangerous headlong rush. There's been only one possible resistance: to not take it seriously.
A spectacularly foolish and baseless faith, against enormous odds, that a world you do not control will take from you the one thing you cannot bear to lose.
Until you could put yourself at some point beyond your own world, looking back at it, you would never see how everything worked together.
If the world’s moving why aren’t we moving as well?
Trees, planets, rivers, time know nothing else. They express it moment by moment as the universe.
But at least we have answered one ancient question. We are not alone. The stars will never again be the same to us.
Whether we sleep or wake, the vast machinery of the universe still goes on.
This place is like the whole world and the whole world is like this place. So where could I go?
It is a pleasant world we live in, sir, a very pleasant world. There are bad people in it.
The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me.
The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.
THE WORLD had teeth and it could bite you with them anytime it wanted.
My sense of my importance to the world is relatively small. On the other hand, my sense of my own importance to myself is tremendous.