Quotes About Adaptation

Y cuando tengas que pasar a la siguiente situación, persona u ocupación, lo harás sin ningún tipo de sobrecarga emocional, y experimentarás el gozo de descubrir que en esa siguiente situación, y en la siguiente, y en cualesquiera situaciones sucesivas, brota también la sinfonía, aunque la melodía sea diferente en cada caso.

The symphony of life moves on but you keep looking back, clinging to a few bars of the melody, blocking your ears to the rest of the music

In fact, among the people I met, the term soviet served essentially as a synonym for 'fucked up'. I'd been in the country about three days when a car that was sent to take me to an interview failed to start. After several attempts to get it going, the driver turned to me, smiled wearily and explained: 'Soviet car'. By that time, that was all the explanation I needed.

Do you know what happens, Etienne," says Madame Manec from the other side of the kitchen, "when you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water?" "You will tell us, I am sure." "It jumps out. But do you know what happens when you put the frog in a pot of cool water and then slowly bring it to a boil? You know what happens then?" Marie-Laure waits. The potatoes steam. Madame Manec says, "The frog cooks.

Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.

Just when we think we have a system, ...the system collapses. Just when we know our way around, we get lost. Just when we think we know what's coming next, everything changes.

You remembers, boy," he says, "there is no bad weathers, only bad clothes.

Nearly every species that has ever lived has gone extinct, Laurette. No reason to think we humans will be any different!" Dr. Geffard pronounces this almost gleefully and pours wine into his glass, and she imagines his head as a cabinet filled with ten thousand little drawers.

Nearly every species that has ever lived has gone extinct, Laurette. No reason to think we humans will be any different!

This is not real suffering, she tells herself. this is only a matter of reprogramming her picture of the future. Of understanding that the line of descendancy is not continuous but arbitrary.

Does she grieve over his absence? Or has she calcified her feelings, protected herself, as he is learning to do?

Nearly every species that has ever lived has gone extinct, Laurette. No reason to think we humans will be any different!" Dr. Geffard pronounces

Gulls pass, braying like donkeys, and in the distance the guns thud again, and the rattling of the truck fades, and Marie-Laure tries to concentrate on rereading a chapter earlier in the novel: make the raised dots form letters, the letters words, the words a world.

As if every living thing rushes to establish a foothold before some cataclysm arrives.

Nearly every species that has ever lived has gone extinct

It's all right," he told her. "Things hardly ever work on the first try. We'll make another, a better one.

When he last went out, almost twenty-four years ago, he tried to make eye contact, to present what might be considered a normal appearance.

Beneath his feet the snail kept on, feeling its way forward, dragging the house of its shell, fitting its body to the sand, to the private unlit horizons that whorled all around it.

Five months ago the hillside beyond the wire was home to red squirrels black finches pygmy shrews garter snakes downy woodpeckers swallowtail butterflies wolf lichen monkey flowers ten thousand voles five million ants. Now what is it?

Aethon: Lived 80 Years a Man, 1 Year a Donkey, 1 Year a Sea Bass, 1 Year a Crow.

Casi todas las especies que han existido alguna vez se han extinguido en el presente. No hay ningún motivo para pensar que con la raza humana vaya a ocurrir algo distinto.

Though perhaps what has changed are the eyes that see it

Recuérdate, hijo —dice—, no hay clima malo, solo ropa mala.

Marie-Laure will not see anything for the rest of her life. Spaces she once knew as familiar–the four-room flat she shares with her father, the little tree-lined square at the end of her street–have become labyrinths bristling with hazards. Drawers are never where they should be. The toilet is an abyss. A glass of water is too near, too far; her fingers too big, always too big.