Musings

Time isn’t straightforward, it mixes everything up, shuffles the dead, merges them, separates them out again, advances backward, retreats in reverse, spins like a merry-go-round, like a tiny wheel in a laboratory cage, and traps us in funerals and marches and detentions, leaving us with no assurance of continuity or escape.

~Nona Fernández, Space Invaders (translated by Natasha Wimmer)

I may have to keep some place where I can go to be myself, now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinements of even an attractive cage.

~Amelia Earhart (in a letter to her fiancé and publicist, George Putnam)

Whicken (noun, verb) – to awake from the death of winter. Made use of in reference to the lengthening of days and the revival of vegetation in spring:

“Ah saw a primrooas as Ah com on rooad; things is beginnin’ ti whicken.”

~from A Glossary of the Dialect of Mid-Yorkshire, 1876

Every second of waking life is one big game of finding the needle in the haystack, although it’s really more like ignoring all the haystacks so we can find the needle that’s really important to us.

~Bill Keaggy