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Quote by Adam Gopnik

“This is surely the most significant of the elements that Tolkien brought to fantasy.... his arranged marriage between the Elder Edda and "The Wind in the Willows"--big Icelandic romance and small-scale, cozy English children's book. The story told by "The Lord of the Rings" is essentially what would happen if Mole and Ratty got drafted into the Nibelungenlied.”

Quote by Adam Gopnik

Author

Adam Gopnik
Adam Gopnik

Adam Gopnik is a renowned Canadian writer whose essays and articles on culture, literature, and politics have made a significant impact on public discourse. Born on August 24, 1956, Gopnik has been a staff writer at The New Yorker since 1986, contributing thought-provoking insights into the complexities of modern life. His work, characterized by its wit and emotional depth, has earned him a place among the most influential writers of his generation. more

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“The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had his head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he closed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the glow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly things which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now smilingly received him back, without rancour. He was now in just the frame of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about in him. He saw clearly how plain and simple — how narrow, even — it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one's existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.”

“Before the game, he [Vin Scully] waxed poetic about Wrigley Field: She stands alone at the corner of Clark and Addison, this dowager queen, dressed in basic black and pearls, seventy-five years old, proud head held high and not a hair out of place, awaiting yet another date with destiny, another time for Mr. Right. She dreams as old ladies will of men gone long ago. Joe Tinker. Johnny Evers. Frank Chance. And of those of recent vintage like her man Ernie. And the Lion [Leo Durocher]. And Sweet Billy Williams. And she thinks wistfully of what might have been, and the pain is still fresh and new, and her eyes fill, her lips tremble, and she shakes her head ever so slightly. And then she sighs, pulls her shawl tightly around her frail shoulders, and thinks, This time, this time it will be better.”

“Boston and Chicago are two great seats of mathematical research located in major American cities. Until they won in 2004, if you asked a baseball fan in Boston what they most hoped to see in their lifetime, they would have answered a World Series win for the Boston Red Sox. Chicago Cubs fans are still waiting. Ask a mathematician in either of those cities or anywhere else in the world what they would most hope to see in their lifetime, and they would most likely answer: "A proof o the Riemann hypothesis!" Perhaps mathematicians, like Red Sox fans, will have their prayers answered in our lifetimes, or at least before the Cubs win the World Series.”

“Lucas looked down the street toward the Metrodome. "I don't want to do anything today. I just want to sit somewhere and see if I can feel good. There's a Twins game...." "Sarah's never been." "You wanna see a game, kid? They ain't the Cubs, but what the hell." Lucas lifted Sarah to straddle the back of his neck and she grabbed his ear and him with the pacifier. What felt like a gob of saliva hit him in the part of his hair. "I'll teach you how to boo. Maybe we can get you a bag to put on your head.”

“But the sunlight had faded, and now she would enjoy the twilight-turned-evening from the beauty of the garden. Her garden. Was it even possible that might be true? She still thought of the space as belonging to her mother. That she might now possess the place herself was at once an honor and an overwhelming responsibility: this place where red-and-pink camellia petals fluttered to the ground as though creating a carpet for fairies.”

“A glint of gold caught her eye. The Scroll lay before her. She admired the detailed artwork on the borders, in which exotic beasts and birds with long feathers hid in twisting branches. She picked up the manuscript. The parchment pulsed beneath her touch as if she had awakened it. She dropped it and stepped back, rubbing her fingers on her jeans to rid herself of the unpleasant sensation that the parchment had recognized her. She didn't recall having had such a feeling before. Perhaps Gerard de Molaire, the sorcerer who had hidden a spell within the Scroll, had channeled some kind of sinister energy into it. But then another thought came to her. Chris had given her the manuscript before, and maybe he had controlled it then.”