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In Limbo

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A.D. Aliwat

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“Chemistry, for me, had stopped being such a source. It led to the heart of Matter, and Matter was our ally precisely because the Spirit, dear to Fascism, was our enemy; but, having reached the fourth year of Pure Chemistry, I could no longer ignore the fact that chemistry itself, or at least that which we were being administered, did not answer my questions. To prepare phenyl bromide according to Gatterman was amusing, even exhilarating, but not very different from following Artusi's recipes. Why in that particular way and not in another? After having been force fed in liceo the truths revealed by Fascist Doctrine, all revealed, unproven truths either bored me stiff or aroused my suspicion. Did chemistry theorems exist? No; therefore you had to go further, not be satisfied with the quia go back to the origins, to mathematics and physics. The origins of chemistry were ignoble, or at least equivocal: the dens of the alchemists, their abominable hodgepodge of ideas and language, their confessed interest in gold, their Levantine swindles typical of charlatans or magicians; instead, at the origin of physics lay the strenuous clarity of the West – Archimedes and Euclid.”

SciencePhysicsChemistry
Book:The periodic table
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“The guy with the wacky hair and the crazed look in his eyes did not appear out of nowhere. He was already known to them. Sometimes he said how great they were, and told them to go back to their roots; if need be, he threw in some highly unlikely but madly alluring conspiracy theory. Just to get them to listen. And to give them a fright. Because he'd noticed that if he scared them, they paid him more attention. They'd gotten used to him being there, and to the fact that now and then, with a totally straight face, he said something unintentionally hilarious. Sometimes he hovered on the fringes of political life, sometimes closer to the mainstream, but he was generally regarded as a mild eccentric. Until one fine day they rubbed their eyes in amazement. Because the guy with the wacky hair had entered the race for one of the highest offices in the land. And just as before, here he was, trying to scare them again - with talk of refugees, war, and unprecedent disaster. With anything at all. He was also trying to pump up the national ego. In the process - in the eyes of the so-called elite - he was making a bit of a fool of himself. But he was also making big promises. Above all, he promised to turn back time, and make things the way they used to be. In other words, better. And he won. You know where this happened? Yes, you're right. In our part of the world. In post-communist Central and Eastern Europe. In Regime-Change Land. "And he won." "....In post-communist Central and Eastern Europe. In Regime-Change Land.”

Politics Political Philosophy
Book:Dancing Bears: True Stories of People Nostalgic for Life Under Tyranny
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“The guy with the wacky hair and the crazed look in his eyes did not appear out of nowhere. He was already known to them. Sometimes he said how great they were, and told them to go back to their roots; if need be, he threw in some highly unlikely but madly alluring conspiracy theory. Just to get them to listen. And to give them a fright. Because he'd noticed that if he scared them, they paid him more attention. They'd gotten used to him being there, and to the fact that now and then, with a totally straight face, he said something unintentionally hilarious. Sometimes he hovered on the fringes of political life, sometimes closer to the mainstream, but he was generally regarded as a mild eccentric. Until one fine day they rubbed their eyes in amazement. Because the guy with the wacky hair had entered the race for one of the highest offices in the land. And just as before, here he was, trying to scare them again - with talk of refugees, war, and unprecedent disaster. With anything at all. He was also trying to pump up the national ego. In the process - in the eyes of the so-called elite - he was making a bit of a fool of himself. But he was also making big promises. Above all, he promised to turn back time, and make things the way they used to be. In other words, better. And he won. You know where this happened? Yes, you're right. In our part of the world. In post-communist Central and Eastern Europe. In Regime-Change Land.”

Politics Political Philosophy
Book:Dancing Bears: True Stories of People Nostalgic for Life Under Tyranny
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“A True P.I. Private Investigator has offices in Katy, Conroe, Galveston, The Woodlands and Clearlake however we cover all areas in between San Antonio and the surrounding areas. In a city as large as San Antonio you need an experienced San Antonio private investigator, one with the right ability training and knowledge to conduct an investigation, at A True P.I. we have handpicked each and every investigator and provided extensive training, starting with state of the art equipment and up to date investigative techniques.”

Private Investigator San AntonioSan Antonio Private Investigator
Author:A True P.I. Private Investigator
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“Offered a job as book critic for Time magazine as a young man, Bellow had been interviewed by Chambers and asked to give his opinion about William Wordsworth. Replying perhaps too quickly that Wordsworth had been a Romantic poet, he had been brusquely informed by Chambers that there was no place for him at the magazine. Bellow had often wondered, he told us, what he ought to have said. I suggested that he might have got the job if he'd replied that Wordsworth was a once-revolutionary poet who later became a conservative and was denounced by Browning and others as a turncoat. This seemed to Bellow to be probably right. More interesting was the related question: What if he'd kept that job?”

Literary CriticismRomantic PoetryTime MagazineWordsworthRobert BrowningSaul BellowWhittaker Chambers
Book:Hitch 22: A Memoir
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“He is the most Shakespearean creature since Shakespeare. If Shakespeare could sing with myriad lips, Browning could stammer through a thousand mouths. [...] Yes, Browning was great. And as what will he be remembered? As a poet? Ah, not as a poet! He will be remembered as a writer of fiction, as the most supreme writer of fiction, it may be, that we have ever had. His sense of dramatic situation was unrivalled, and, if he could not answer his own problems, he could at least put problems forth, and what more should an artist do? Considered from the point of view of a creator of character he ranks next to him who made Hamlet. Had he been articulate, he might have sat beside him. The only man who can touch the hem of his garment is George Meredith. Meredith is a prose Browning, and so is Browning. He used poetry as a medium for writing in prose.”

Robert Browning
Book:The Critic As Artist: With Some Remarks on the Importance of Doing Nothing and Discussing Everything
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“It wasn't just the way he always looked at her- with a mix of genuine joy and longing rolled into one- or his appearance, although he wasn't hard on the eyes with those rippling pectorals. She found herself drawn to those kind blue eyes and the hard line of his jaw, which moved when he was thinking. It was the dimples in his cheeks when he flashed her that magnetic smile, and the way his reddish blond hair had a single curl that was always falling in front of his eyes. But mostly it was that earnest nature of his, and his need to find the good in every situation, which was so different from how she viewed life, and gave her hope that the world could be more than she imagined it to be.”

HandsomeHerculesMeg And HerculesDream BoyWonder Boy
Book:Go the Distance
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