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Quote by Izumi Suzuki

“The only Terrans around on Meele were the piratical mine-raiders, hiding behind their Scientific Investigation Commission accreditation, and tourists who were hot on far-flung destinations. Terrans didn't have the best reputation over there, thanks to their tendancy to dig everything and anything up.”

Quote by Izumi Suzuki

Work

Terminal Boredom: Stories

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Izumi Suzuki

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“I am always a different man; a reinterpretation of the man I was yesterday, and the day before, and all the days I have lived. The past is gone, was always gone; it does not exist, except in memory, and what is memory but thought, a copy of perception, no less but no more replete with truth than any passing whim, fancy, or other agitation of the mind. And if it is actions, words, thoughts that define an individual, those definitions alter like the weather - if continuity and pattern are often discernible, so are chaos and sudden change.”

“You jumped in your car and drove here from New York on a whim. I don't do much of anything as a whim." As if needing to prove her wrong- because something inside of him felt as if he did- Max stood up from his stool and walked around to her side of the counter. Slowly and deliberately. Waves of pink began rushing up her neck and he had a gratifying epiphany. So I'm the cause of that shade. Although, really, he knew he was the cause of all the shades. But he sure liked that one best. "I don't know, Hadley. I think it's been a pretty whimsical night." Her lips curled up in acknowledgement. "This has all been very unlike me. But that doesn't change the fact that down the road, beyond right now-" He leaned down so they were eye-to-eye and whispered, "Who said anything about beyond right now?”

“The 19th-century Americana and DIY energy that became associated with Brooklyn dining were arguably transplanted from Portland. At Le Pigeon, one of the defining restaurants of mid-aughts Portland, bucking tradition remains pleasingly de rigeuer and unapologetically deranged. Lobster-stuffed fried chicken, a recent dish that could have merely been a dare, instead crams the luxury of lobster bisque inside of a fried hunk of chicken breast, the richness cut just enough by bright spring peas and slaw. The logic of the lobster fried chicken is a dogged quest to overload all pleasure centers in the weirdest possible way. Eating it makes you want to die, but happily.”