worlds

Even though this world is narrow, it is wide... to those who understand. This world isn't the only one.

There's so many different worlds, so many different suns. And we have just one world, but we live in different ones.

So I saw that there was only me. There was only me who could worry about what was happening here, inside these walls of my life. Other people had their own worlds to worry about, and in the end, they had to fend for themselves, just like us.

Introverts live in two worlds: We visit the world of people, but solitude and the inner world will always be our home.

The people who love you will guide you like bright lights into the other worlds.

Imagine, if you will:Meradinis!The stuff myths are made of! The Turtle Island of the stars _ home planet to the fearsome and once legendary Corsairs. The very name of this world immediately grabbed the imaginations of young boys and girls, and universally mesmerize dreamers and romantics alike. The truth though was less romantic _ and as reality so often demonstrates in real life - instead rather ugly and brutal. The Corsairs were not corn-ball comics that went about with parrots on their shoulders, saying __rr!_ to everything they encountered. They were anything but. Behind the Corsairs and their culture lay a history fraught with a struggle to survive, a vengefulness and a cruelty _ and a drive to survive by preying upon others that struck fear into the hearts of neighboring fringe worlds.

And I read something else," Jacob goes on. "There was this discussion of the story of Cain and Abel, from the Bible. After Cain kills his brother, God says, 'The bloods of your brother call out to me.' Not blood. Bloods. Weird, right? So the Talmud tries to explain it.""I can explain it," says William. "The scribe was drunk.""William!" cries Jeanne. "The Bible is written by God!""And copied by scribes," the big boy replies. "Who get drunk. A lot. Trust me."Jacob is laughing. "The rabbis have a different explanation. The Talmud says it's 'bloods' because Cain didn't only spill Abel's blood. He spilled the blood of Abel and all the descendants he never had.""Huh!""And then it says something like, 'Whoever destroys a single life destroys the whole world. And whoever saves a single life saves the whole world."There are sheep in the meadow beside the road. Gwenforte walks up to the low stone wall, and one sheep--a ram--doesn't run away. They sniff each other's noses. Her white fur beside the ram's wool--two textures, two colors, both called white in our inadequate language. Jeanne is thinking about something. At last, she shares it. "William, you said that it takes a lifetime to make a book.""That's right.""One book? A whole lifetime?"William nods. "A scribe might copy out a single book for years. An illuminator would then take it and work on it for longer still. Not to mention the tanner who made the parchment, and the bookbinder who stitched the book together, and the librarian who worked to get the book for the library and keep it safe from mold and thieves and clumsy monks with ink pots and dirty hands. And some books have authors, too, like Saint Augustine or Rabbi Yehuda. When you think about it, each book is a lot of lives. Dozens and dozens of them."Dozens and dozens of lives," Jeanne says. "And each life a whole world.""We saved five books," says Jacob. "How many worlds is that?"William smiles. "I don't know. A lot. A whole lot.

I have lived in worlds beyond counting and countries as strange and wonderful as the dance of dust in sunbeams, because I have lived in books.

After a while it occurred to me that between the covers of each of those books lay a boundless universe waiting to be discovered while beyond those walls, in the outside world, people allowed life to pass by in afternoons of football and radio soaps, content to do little more than gaze at their navels.

perhaps,thought Felix,that's what magic is--physics with a different twist to it.my world just hasn't discovered the twist.

I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.

This is what I__e always loved about a city, all the worlds hidden away inside, largest of aquariums.

These times are unfriendly toward Worlds alternative to this one

...God sometimes sends flowers -but I like it best when he darkens the sky and lights up an infinitude of worlds...

Not a very pretty world, is it?""Which one?

A world between my fingers.

For the ones who dream of stranger worlds.

You read, move your lips, figure out the words, and it's like you're in two places at the same time: you're sitting or lying with your legs curled up, your hand groping in the bowl, but you can see different worlds, far-off worlds that maybe never existed but still seem real. You run or sail or race in a sleigh--you're running away from someone, or you yourself have decided to attack--your heart thumps, life flies by, and it's wondrous: you can live as many different lives as there are books to read.