“The medieval mystics had a word for it—derelict. It's a good word, conjuring up as it does empty stables with their rotting planks leaning outwards like gaping teeth, their innards just rusting machinery and corroded pipework. Dereliction. The state of not being cared for.”
“But with the morning came hope, and a brighter view of things.”
“My beloved isn't dazzling light, Darkness is my beloved – The reason I'm so fond of her…”
“Ground based professional astronomy is well on its way to being a fond memory of the past.”
“War is as much a punishment to the punisher as it is to the sufferer.”