Iulia Marc

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Refugiul timpului
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  (page 95 of 352)
",,Nu e nevoie să căutăm ceva ieșit din comun, zise Gaustin. Timpul nu își face cuib în extraordinar, el își caută un loc tăcut și liniștit. Dacă descoperi urme ale altui timp, aceasta se va întâmpla doar într-o după-amiază cu totul banală. O după-amiază în care nu a avut loc nimic special, nimic decât viața însăși..."" Nov 22, 2025 08:47AM

 
Silozul. Generațiile
Iulia Marc is currently reading
by Hugh Howey (Goodreads Author)
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Fântâna Înălţării
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Vincent van Gogh
“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.”
Vincent van Gogh

Ray Bradbury
“If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn.”
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Adrian Rogoz
“- Creierul e și el un joc matematic al naturii.
Iată de ce câștigarea unei partide (mai cu seamă a uneia frumoase) îi procura plăcere, dar aproape niciodată un sentiment de orgoliu, iar remizele îi creau invariabil o stare de nemulțumire.”
Adrian Rogoz, Prețul secant al genunii

H.G. Wells
“it came to me then, I am sure, for the first time, how promiscuous, how higgledy-piggledy was the whole of that jumble of mines and homes, collieries and potbanks, railway yards, canals, schools, forges and blast furnaces, churches, chapels, allotment hovels, a vast irregular agglomeration of ugly smoking accidents in which men lived as happy as frogs in a dustbin. Each thing jostled and damaged the other things about it, each thing ignored the other things about it; the smoke of the furnace defiled the potbank clay, the clatter of the railway deafened the worshipers in church, the public-house thrust corruption at the school doors, the dismal homes squeezed miserably amidst the monstrosities of industrialism, with an effect of groping imbecility. Humanity choked amidst its products, and all its energy went in increasing its disorder, like a blind stricken thing that struggles and sinks in a morass.”
H.G. Wells, In the Days of the Comet

Ray Bradbury
“If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy, or both. You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

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