I thought of fire, but I feared that the burning of an infinite book would be just as infinite and suffocate the planet with smoke. And very special thanks to Kate Miller-Heidke.
At night, in the meager intervals my insomnia granted, I dreamed of the book.
I told him that I had a special affection for Scotland because of my love of Stevenson and Hume. Not without pedantry I responded: While we spoke, I kept exploring the infinite book. I reopened it immediately. Over the summer, the narrator obsesses over the book, poring over it, cataloging its illustrations, and refusing to go outside for fear of its theft.
I'm offering it to you," he said, and he stipulated a rather high sum for the book. Mike and his crew after their day on the water. I think they have cabins elsewhere, like Michigan and other parts of Wisconsin. I shipped 30lbs of lake trout home and though they were frozen everyone had enjoyed some fantastic lake Superior lake trout.
I suspect that he saw the Book of Books as a talisman. Late one evening, a few months back, I heard a knock at my door.
It was night when the man left. After studying its frayed spine and covers with a magnifying glass, I rejected the possibility of a contrivance of any sort.
To the luck of owning it was added the fear of having it stolen, and then the misgiving that it might not truly be infinite.
Then he lowered his voice as if entrusting me with a secret: An old captain in Grand Haven suggested a light brush of maple syrup just before done. I replied, in all honesty, that the price was too high for me and I remained in thought. I told him I had a great personal affection for Scotland, through my love of Stevenson and Hume.
To hide my discomfort, I said to him: I felt the book to be a nightmarish object, something obscene that slanders and compromises reality. Somewhere I recalled reading that the best place to hide a leaf is in a forest. It was an octavo volume, bound in cloth. I sensed immediately that he was a foreigner.
Page by page, in vain, I looked for the illustration of the anchor. I can show you a sacred book that might interest you. After a few minutes I had come up with a plan. You'll never see it again. It was as though the pages sprouted from within the book. In the upper corner of each page were Arabic numerals.
I never saw him again, nor do I know his name. Then the mishap with the condo having been used by the new owner and the quick response of sending someone with a key to an even nice unit and assistance moving.
Roedelius also featured as an actor in the piece. The fish tasted great and your son and you both were very enjoyable to be with. The number of pages in this book is no more or less than infinite.
I saw at once that he was a foreigner. I placed my left hand on the cover and opened the book with my thumb and forefinger almost touching. He exuded a melancholy air, as do I now. At night, in the scarce intervals insomnia withdrew its hold over, I dreamed of the book.
I have cancer and a friend with MS."No- this, more geometrico, is decidedly not the best way to begin my tale." Six Quotes Brief Summary Everything you could ever want is within infinity Leading us all to have curiosity Infinity, is indeed enticing Like a car, constantly racing Never seen, infinity is mysterious.
The Book of Sand site is a hypertext, with a nonlinear structure and dynamic images. This story is well-suited for such a presentation, since it deals with a supernatural book whose many pages are in no discernible order.
So how fitting it is, then, that the Book of Sand ends by being lost in a vast library, harking back to the Library of Babel and its mysterious volumes, which in turn foreshadows the Book of Sand, in an endless loop befitting Borges! The Book of Sand takes its title from a short story by Jorge Luis Borges, and is based on this and four other Borges stories, The Zahir, The Aleph, The Library of Babel, and The House of Asterion.
In Borges’ story, the Book of Sand is a book with infinite pages, with no beginning and no end, that becomes an obsession and gradually consumes.
"The Book of Sand" (Spanish: El libro de arena) is a short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges. It has parallels to the same author's story "The Zahir" (revised ), continuing the theme of self-reference and attempting to abandon the terribly infinite.
"The Book of Sand and Shakespeare's Memory" is a brilliant collection of Borges' exquisite stories. Magical and gritty, beautiful and haunting -- and sadly, the last work he did. Read more. 25 people found this helpful. Helpful. Comment Report abuse.
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