Margaret Leigh

But let the wise be warned against too great readiness at explanation: it multiplies the sources of mistake, lengthening the sum for reckoners sure to go wrong.

But Lydgate had not been long in the town before there were particulars enough reported of him to breed much more specific expectations and to intensify differences into partisanship; some of the particulars being of that impressive order of which the significance is entirely hidden, like a statistical amount without a standard of comparison, but w

What the opposition in Middlemarch said about the New Hospital and its administration had certainly a great deal of echo in it, for heaven has taken care that everybody shall not be an originator;

“Several years ago,” the modulated, shifting voice began, “you volunteered to have your neural connectome mapped and uploaded.” “Right, yeah. DIANIMA project. Back when they were renting a big lab here at the institute.

I may not know the word I am speaking, but that word is not the message. The message is: “We hear you. We read you.” The message is connection.

We give words only to the things that matter to us as a society. The things that make no difference to us are erased from our world by never becoming a part of language in the first place. In this way, each language organizes the world into a pattern. Each language decides what has meaning—and what does not. As native speakers, we are born inside t

Now moons decline and rise, Dead metaphors that looked alive. And you about to die Out past the water-clock of tides Naming and renaming your desires. You rode in wind And scarred the cheek Like the edge of an autumn leaf. I put you in your hollow ship With wine and bread to drift The wine-dark sea. You put me In my hollow ship. A memorized part of

Across its surface flowed a syntax of shapes—a steady sequence of silhouettes—ringed, scrolled, involuted, whorled. The figures danced on the octopus’s skin. The place the two octopuses had chosen was bathed in light by a beam-angle from the penetrated hull, and the patterns across the larger one’s pale skin reminded Ha of the articulated cut-out f

You have seen, though, the many stray cats and dogs in our city.” “I have.” “And wondered about them?” “I suppose.” “They are old Istanbulites. Some of the oldest, and caring for them has been a tradition for longer than anyone can remember. And not only these animals: The Ottomans established foundations which fed street dogs and wolves in the mou