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Quote by William Deresiewicz

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What the Ivy League Won't Teach You

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William Deresiewicz
William Deresiewicz

William Deresiewicz, born in 1964, is a renowned American author. His works span across various fields including literary criticism, social commentary, and philosophical thought, known for their profound insights and unique style. more

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“Technos and clerics have much in common. Both take a world that can’t be fully understood and try to explain its fundamental properties. Clerics postulate beliefs that can never be proven; they demand you accept these postulates as your Faith, which will guide your actions and thoughts. It’s a top down way of thinking; start with the big picture and derive rules for living. Fundamental knowledge is static. Even the derived rules rarely change. Technos work from the bottom up. They build a baseline of observations and formulate theories to explain these phenomena. Nothing is sacred; with new observations, theories are discarded or modified to fit the facts. Technos and clerics; how could they not be in conflict? Dan Ronco’s Diary, 2016”

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“Me miró, desde su altura, de una manera tal que me dio vuelta todo lo que tenía en el alma. Si alguien me mirara así cada tres o cuatro meses, estoy seguro de que mi vida sería digna de una biografía en varios tomos. En la mirada esa había de todo: agresión y ternura, desafío y ruego, erotismo, desdén, caricias, puñales, hielo, fuego, música… Me sentí como si un caballo me hubiera pateado la cabeza con las herraduras de los dos cascos traseros al mismo tiempo, pero dándose maña para hacerme sentir que me estaba haciendo un favor.”

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“Scattered trees, never thick enough to be a forest, were everywhere. Shasta, who had lived all his life in an almost tree-less grassland, had never seen so many or so many kinds. If you had been there you would probably have known (he didn't) that he was seeing oaks, beeches, silver birches, rowans, and sweet chestnuts. Rabbits scurried away in every direction as they advanced, and presently they saw a whole herd of fallow deer making off among the trees.”

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Book:The Horse and His Boy
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“The Foundry Man All day, every day; a head that pounds to the rhythm of beating hammers. Feet, numbed from the vibrations of heavy machinery, and skin that glows crimson from the blistering heat of the furnace. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow, sweat that runs in rivulets to eyes already sore from black, putrid dust. This is the lot of the foundry man. Not for him fresh air, green fields, or the sun on his back. He has a heart of gold, strength of steel. He is a man of iron.”

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