Quotes About Space

I think it comes from really liking literary forms. Poetry is very beautiful, but the space on the page can be as affecting as where the text is. Like when Miles Davis doesn't play, it has a poignancy to it.

From now on, we live in a world where man has walked on the moon. It wasn't a miracle, we just decided to go.

I could put my thumb up to a window and completely hide the Earth. I thought, 'Everything I've ever known is behind my thumb.

In a few hours the world will resume itself, but for now we're in a pocket of silence. We're in the plasmapause, a place of equilibrium, where the forces of the earth meet the forces of the sun. I imagine it as a place of stillness, where the particles of dust stop spinning and hang motionless in deep space.

Angelo, beds are for sleeping, chairs are for sitting, tables are for piling books.' 'All flat surfaces are for piling books.' Angelo says

Everyone seemed to be getting healthier, happier, and more productive... I now felt that I was sharing this body, this physical space, with a whole group of very interesting and worthwhile people.

Funny how an absence can feel like a presence, like that space practically glows with her outline and make me notice how she's not here.

Last night was a game changer, so far as I'm concerned. I gave you your space, let you go. But you came back, so now you're fair game. I'm done being the nice guy.

this book attempts to tackle: the temporal and affective space in which colonial inequities endure and the forms in which they do so.

Here the concept-work is around the sentiments and sensibilities that notions of security produce; on the subjects they endeavor to create; on the manipulations of space they condone; and on the objects of fear they nourish, reproduce, and on which they depend.

I don't know what to do with the space. Rain used to fill it. How do you fill empty space?

The air between us is not empty space.

Create around one at least a small circle where matters are arranged as one wants them to be.

These handkerchief gardens are a traditional German solution to apartment dwellers' yearning for a tool shed and a vegetable garden. They make a patchwork of green in odd corners of urban land, along train lines or canals or, as here, in the lee of the Wall.

It has something to do with the cosmic rays coming from outer space. They strike some person or thing, and then you get a mutation - like the stripes on a zebra. The attraction of two such mutants to one another would have an almost incestuous appeal and be far stronger than the bond of love between ordinary human beings.

A thinking mind is not swallowed up by what it comes to know. It reaches out to grasp something related to itself and to its present knowledge (and so knowable in some degree) but also separate from itself and from its present knowledge (not identical with these). In any act of thinking, the mind must reach across this space between known and unknown, linking one to the other but also keeping visible to difference. It is an erotic space.

When I contemplate the physical spaces that articulate the letters 'I love you' in a written text, I may be led to think about other spaces, for example the space that lies between 'you' in the text and you in my life.

So about an hour later we are in the taxi shooting along empty country roads towards town. The April light is clear as an alarm. As we pass them it gives a sudden sense of every object existing in space on its own shadow. I wish I could carry this clarity with me into the hospital where distinctions tend to flatten and coalesce. I wish I had been nicer to him before he got crazy. These are my two wishes.

In Renaissance painting every point in space is accounted for. Here is a point, Anna, discoursing with the phenomenologist from Wiesbaden and raising her eyes to heaven. Standing just outside their line of vision, I slide my eye to the left. Postmetaphysical myself, I will be unaccountable for the murder.

How does distance look?' is a simple direct question. It extends from a spaceless within to the edge of what can be loved. It depends on light.

Every soul innately yearns for stillness, for a space, a garden where we can till, sow, reap, and rest, and by doing so come to a deeper sense of self and our place in the universe. Silence is not an absence but a presence.

In October, political advertisements bloom on all the signboards and at the interstate exits. If there is a space, there is a sign. They will stay there long after the elections, in fact until storms batter them down. Candidates are supposed to take them down the day after the election, but I have yet to see that happen. Half the candidates are too happy to bother; the others are too depressed.

Nature abhors a vacuum. And so do I.

You can't catch a cat, but whatever you do, in the space of a whisker a cat may catch you.