Jacob English

They were falling out of the heaven, into a world. Nothing in all his adventures bit so deeply into Ransom's mind as this. He wondered how he could ever have thought of planets, even of the Earth, as islands of life and reality floating in a deadly void. Now, with a certainty which never after deserted him, he saw the planets-the 'earths' he called

He had read of 'Space': at the back of his thinking for years had lurked the dismal fancy of the black, cold vacuity, the utter deadness, which was supposed to separate the worlds. He had not known how much it affected him till now—now that the very name 'Space' seemed a blasphemous libel for this empyrean ocean of radiance in which they swam. He

I want to start making more zines. A yearly wrapped zine of thoughts, photos, and poems would be a very compelling way to group the year and the way it has happened, and make it memorable. There is a photographer named Bedford Towers on Instagram who makes and gives away several zines a year, and my friend Adam Abram (SO HIPP) does a framed photo

It would be awesome to scan and upload my journal entries from my mission, tying them to the specific days they were written, paired with the photos I uploaded, to create a comprehensive collection of days and moments that I can remember forever.

I spent a lot of time blaming my parents and upbringing for the limited media and life experiences I was exposed to, but how powerful is it that I get to experience things in life for the first time with a fully developed brain, driven by my own personal curiosity? I’m sure there are slews of people who wish they could experience the Beatles for

The inevitability of rain is so cool. It feels like nature is forcefully reminding you that it is there, and the power is out of your hands. It cleanses without warning or regard, making things new.

I love the sound of rain on a tin roof