(Un) Finalized Quotations.

"My dynamite will sooner lead to peace than a thousand world conventions. As soon as men will find that in one instant, whole armies can be utterly destroyed, they surely will abide by golden peace" -Alfred Noble That quote, spoken at the end of the 19th century (by the founder of the Noble Prize which will be officially awarded and dispensed with in its myriad categories tomorrow I believe) seems to accurately exemplify the unemperical character and ought to often practiced theory of containment now doesn't it? I have finished. McCall has a way of doing that to someone with a lingering book. It allows the space for steadfast reading. Among other things of course. Forest adventures and lakeside sittings. I did not dig deep in the sand this time. Instead, the wait of my body sunk into its softness. The children ensured it was dug and sometimes placed heavily on my resting form. Peppering my like a roast. A mama too ripe with grown-up experience to completely hold the promise of its malleability. I have been busily bending pages. Moving through a tale of loves, and loss, and death, and time-travel,or the failure of it. So, I feel like sharing these quotes again. Some of them so striking, some moments uncapturable--like when suddenly it became clear that the character "sam" was Sam Clemens --or Mark Twain. I was compelled to comb back through--How could I not have caught that earlier, or is Samantha Hunt using a literary trick, dumping the unexpected at the end with the intent of delighting , and risking near disappointment. But she bundled it right, she twists it again and again until the un-reality of it all leaves you wondering not if it was legitimate, but where a notion of the legitimate as a literary standard came from anyways. So I will not cite these in a linear way. I may even start at the end. The final pieces that I am savoring still now. To the middle parts that perhaps I have forgotten already, and need this little reminder as a way of finalizing their etchings. Never mind, there is not time. Too many things to do besides satisfy my own desire to order these written impressions, to pocket them in my own little immaterial purse of ponderings. You will have to read the book yourself to cite the middle. "The birds dove together, each loop inseperable from the other, known, unknown, welcome. They rose and fell. They turned and disappeared like a flash of something that's hard to hold on to: hope, the past, lightning against the New York City sky" "And he wondered: Why is she asking me to say this? Can't she tell, and doesn't she know? It is in the air, in my eyes, in the words I say that have nothing to do with what must remain unsaid. She does know this, or else why would she keep coming back?" "My birth and their wedding sat on the kitchen table. In a few days, I imagined, a new certificate would arrive, and I would file it there with the rest of his life. I wondered what they would write as the cause of death. Curiosity. Courage. Love. Love, I heard Mr. Tesla say, is impossible. Yes, I agreed. This morning it seems you are right about that." "I'll just tell you what I remember because memory is as close as I've ever gotten to building my own time machine." "Mr. Tesla miscalculated. Death rays don't stop death. Killing only kills more. Perhaps he'd been thinking about another version of our future. The one he'd intended for us. The path we didn't take. The future where war and death were absurd propositions. The future where human beings have wings and electricity is miraculous and free"