The first is as rigid and metallic as a massive pendulum of iron that swings back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
ALAN LIGHTMANOne metaphor for how we are living is that you see so may people with cell phones.
More Alan Lightman Quotes
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Rather, each act is an island in time, to be judged on its own. … It is a world of impulse. It is a world of sincerity.
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And if the present has little effect on the future, present actions need not be weighed for their consequence.
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Just didn’t know whether I would finish the book much less for it to come close to what I intended. I think that for any novel you never know exactly how the book is going to turn out…
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No one ever expects poetry to sell…
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Or perhaps it is not because the cosmos is irrational but because they are rational. Who can say which, in an acausal world?
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You say, “Something important really happened here. I really had hold of something I was visited by the muse.” And that’s enough to make you continue the months and years to finish the whole book.
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I still will sit down at the piano and play when I am wrestling with something emotionally or just want to move into the musical world.
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People are content to live in contradictory worlds, so long as they know the reason for each.
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There are the alpha waves in the brain; another clock is the heart. And all the while tick the mysterious, ruthless clocks that regulate aging.
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I think that the scienti?c way of looking at the world, and the humanistic way of looking at the world are complementary.
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The urge to discover, to invent, to know the unknown, seems so deeply human that we cannot imagine our history without it.
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The future is pattern, organization, union, intensification; the past, randomness, confusion, disintegration, dissipation.
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Events, once happened, lose reality, alter with a glance, a storm, a night. In time, the past never happened. But who could know? Who could know that the past is not as solid as this instant.
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Illuminated by only the most feeble red light, for light is diminished to almost nothing at the center of time, its vibrations slowed to echoes in vast canyons, its intensity reduced to the faint glow of fireflies.
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In this world, artists are joyous. Unpredictability is the life of their paintings, their music, their novels. They delight in events not forecasted, happenings without explanation, retrospective.
ALAN LIGHTMAN






